Covered in Rain
by SVU-Obsessed
Summary: Chapter Twenty One: City Love. After a tragedy tears apart her family, Paige quickly finds her world changing and an alarming new relationship
1. Prologue

A couple of quick notes before the story- this story takes place two years in the future, making Paige and all her friends seventeen (Grade Twelve). I don't own Degrassi or any of their characters. I also don't own the Gap or any other pop culture references in the story. And, (Sigh), I don't own John Mayer, who I stole the title of this story from. Enjoy! And if you don't want me to continue this story, please let me know.  
  
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"I hate Christmas," I told Hazel as we pushed our way through the crowded shopping mall, trying to get to the Gap to pick up Dylan's present. Both of our hands were full of bags, and I was nearly dying under the weight of my coat. I was ready to murder whoever was in charge of the music in the next store we heard "Santa Baby" in.  
  
"How can you hate Christmas? Even I love Christmas."  
  
"You don't celebrate Christmas, do you?"  
  
"Doesn't stop me from loving it. So why do you hate it?"  
  
"The music, the malls, the stores."  
  
"What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Did you actually just ask me what's wrong with Christmas music?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Come on, get into the spirit." We walked into the Gap- or rather pushed our way in- and Hazel pulled a Santa hat off the shelf. She put it on my head. I made a face.  
  
"Bah humbug."  
  
"Come on, at least pretend to be excited."  
  
I shrugged, and we started looking. We had thought we were smart to come after dinner two Tuesdays before Christmas. So had the rest of the world, or so it seemed. The unfortunate part was that it was probably a lot busier on the weekends.  
  
"When's our project due for anthropology?" I asked her.  
  
"The one on grief?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Um. . . oh crap, that's due on Thursday."  
  
"All-nighter tomorrow night?"  
  
"Sounds like it."  
  
Suddenly, the beginning notes of John Mayer's 'No Such Thing' overpowered the annoying gap-version of Christmas carols.  
  
"Is that mine or yours?" Hazel asked.  
  
"Don't you have Love Soon as your ring?"  
  
"Oh, right." I struggled to get my cell phone out of my pocket without dropping my bags. It didn't work. I pushed my way through the crowd, got out of the store and dropped my bags in a heap, and pulled out my phone.  
  
"Hello?" I plugged my other ear with my hand that was still holding a couple of the bags.  
  
"Is this Paige Michalchuk?" The man's voice on the other end was unfamiliar. I couldn't figure out what the strange noises from his end were.  
  
"Yeah, who's this?"  
  
"I'm Eric Bennett, I'm a doctor at St. Vincent's hospital. Are you related to Anna Michalchuk?"  
  
My heart stopped beating, and the noise in the background just faded away. "Ye- yes. She's my mom."  
  
"Your mom has been in a car accident. She's in pretty good shape, but she got hit in the head pretty hard. Her car was totalled. She's going to need someone to drive her home."  
  
"But she's okay?"  
  
"Seems like. We have a couple more tests to run, but she should be out by tonight."  
  
"Okay. Um, I'm going to head over there now. Where can I find her?"  
  
"Come into the ER, and a nurse will tell you where to go."  
  
"She's really okay?"  
  
"It's amazing that she's done so well."  
  
"Okay. Thank you." I hung up, my hands shaking violently. Hazel was standing beside me. She put her hand on my shoulder.  
  
"Are you okay, hun?"  
  
"Um, yeah, I guess," I looked down and busied myself with picking up my bags. Though I tried to cover it up, Hazel saw that I was crying.  
  
"What is it?" she asked gently.  
  
I picked up my bags, wiped my eyes, and pretended to be unaffected by what had just happened. "Uh, my mom's been in an accident. She needs someone to drive her home."  
  
"Oh my God. Is she okay?"  
  
"I didn't talk to her. The doctor who I talked to said she was doing really well."  
  
"Do you want me to drive?"  
  
"No, I've got the other car."  
  
"But are you okay to drive?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." I plastered a fake smile on my face. "Are you okay with taking the bus?"  
  
"Yeah, don't worry about me."  
  
"Thanks, Haze," I said softly, then before I could stop myself, gave her a quick hug.  
  
The walk to the car consisted of me pushing people out of my way, and trying to slip on the icy ground. I almost got hit by two cars backing out, who refused to stop. The traffic was heavy getting to the hospital. I kept my hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel. It was dark and snowing. On the way, I passed an accident site. The two cars, thank God, weren't the same colour as the one my mom had been driving. I was blinded, almost hypnotized by the flashing lights as I drove by. The radio was on in the background, but did nothing but annoy me. It was just constant droning, but I did nothing to turn it off. When I got to the hospital, I was a mess.  
  
"I'm looking for my mom," I told the receptionist frantically.  
  
"What's her name?" she asked.  
  
"Anna Michalchuk."  
  
Her face softened. "Are you her daughter?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Come with me," she said, leading me behind the sliding doors that separated the patients who were waiting from those who were supposedly seeing a doctor. I saw very few doctors, but people who looked sick, who looked like they were in pain, some with ice packs against their heads, some visibly bleeding. What had they done to my mom?  
  
"It's been crazy tonight," the receptionist explained, seeing my wide-eyed look. "We've had a couple of big car accidents." She kept walking, past the sick and the injured people. She led me into a small waiting room. There was a large TV with some kind of kids show on, and a small pile of toys in front of it. Two touching walls had chairs against them, about ten or twelve in total, and a small table in the corner with various magazines. There was only one other person in the room. The nurse started to leave.  
  
"Wait, where's my mom?!"  
  
She didn't hear me. I considered running after her, then decided against it. Maybe they were just going to have her come out here.  
  
"As soon as they get you here, they like to pretend they can't hear you," a voice behind me said. I turned. The person who I'd seen with their head in their hands, was now looking at me. It was a him. Probably a university student. He had a leather jacket sitting on the chair beside him, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. There were traces of dried blood on his hands, and parts of his shirt were crimson. His eyes were slightly red, his dark hair a mess, and looked exhausted.  
  
"What do you mean?" I asked.  
  
"Their job is to get you here. They don't want to deal with you afterwards."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Critical care waiting room isn't the most pleasant place to be."  
  
I felt my heart skip a beat. "Critical care? They wanted me here to drive my mom home."  
  
"What happened to her?"  
  
"Car accident. The doctor who called said she was okay. He said that she had just hit her head, but was okay. Why- did they tell you why you're here?"  
  
His drawn face seemed to darken. "I came in with my sister."  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
"I haven't heard anything. They don't like telling you what's going on until they know for sure that they've saved them. . ."  
  
"Or they die," I finally said.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The thought hit me hard. My mom could be dead. I sat down in the chair next to him. "How do you know so much about what happens here?"  
  
"I've been here once or twice before," he said simply.  
  
Suddenly, it hit me. I hadn't called Dylan. My stomach roiled at the realization that I had completely forgotten about him. I pulled out my cell phone, but I didn't get a signal.  
  
"Damn it," I shouted, my voice echoing in the small room. I threw my phone against the wall. It probably broke, but I didn't move to pick it up. I drew my legs up against my chest, put my head down, and started to cry. From beside my, the stranger slowly offered his hand. I took it, and he closed it over mine. He squeezed my hand gently. I swallowed hard, and managed to stop crying. We didn't say anything, but just waited, two complete strangers, but depending solely on each other. There was no one else there to support either of us.  
  
Sometime later, ten, fifteen, maybe thirty minutes, the door leading into the room finally opened, and a balding doctor came in. He wore green scrubs that had been turned red.  
  
"Are you Paige?" he asked. I nodded and stood up. The stranger let go of my hand.  
  
"I'm doctor Bennett, we spoke on the phone."  
  
"Where's my mom?"  
  
"Your mom-"  
  
"You said my mom was okay!" I shouted.  
  
He nodded. "She came in with minor injuries. We had other cases, and hadn't had a chance to do a through examination."  
  
"What happened to her!?"  
  
"I'm sorry," he said. "We did all we could."  
  
He kept talking, but I didn't hear a word he said. His speech slowed down to an inaudible drone, and his head seemed to bob. The walls fell away, the world fell away, and I quickly felt myself falling away. The last thing I felt was someone's arms catching me before I fell. Then nothing.  
  
Only later did I find out just who the arms belonged to. 


	2. A Second Meeting

Wow, thank you so much for all the reviews! As for the Dean idea. . . things may not be as they seem. Although, after this chapter, you can probably tell what's going to happen.  
  
Also, I don't really know about Paige's family. I'm assuming that Dylan's her only sibling, and for the sake of this story, he dad is not in her life. Not dead, but not in her life.  
  
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"Paige?" Dylan said softly, shaking my arm. Everything was dark, and my head was pounding. Slowly feeling back into my limbs. I was in my room, lying in bed. I had been somewhere good, somewhere warm, somewhere dark. Sleeping. I had been sleeping. Who did Dylan think he is, taking me away from that?  
  
"What?" I asked, pulling the blankets over my head.  
  
"There's someone here to see you."  
  
Two days since mom had died, and we had been bombarded by phone calls and visitors. Dylan had kept strong, talked to my relatives, answered the phone and the door. There was a pile of casseroles slowly growing in the freezer. He had been organized enough to label who each container belonged to. He was functioning, dealing with it, taking on all the responsibilities. I, on the other hand, stayed in bed, and kept popping the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed me the night she died. I was there for the things I absolutely had to be there for, but I slept whenever possible.  
  
"I don't want to see them."  
  
"Come on, get up." His tone stayed soft, but he pulled the blankets off.  
  
"Please, Dylan," I asked softly. "Let me sleep."  
  
"Paige. . . I know this sucks, and I know how hard this is for you, but I really need you to get dressed and come downstairs."  
  
I sighed, but managed to pull myself out of bed as Dylan left. My limbs felt heavy, and I was afraid of looking in the mirror. I found a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt on the floor, and I pulled them on. I didn't bother to run a comb through my hair.  
  
I got to the top of the stairs, but couldn't see the mysterious visitor that Dylan was hellbent on getting me to talk to. I came down, and realized that Dylan wasn't there, but sitting uncomfortably at the end of my couch was Spinner.  
  
He got up as soon as he saw me. I just stared at him for a minute. Neither of us had any idea what to say. Things had been weird between us after we broke up in grade ten. We'd dated, and maybe I'd ever loved him, but things just hadn't worked out. We were still friends, but there was always something there that hadn't been there before. It was like going to university and then going back to high school.  
  
Finally, after an awkward silence, I found myself running into his arms. I wrapped my arms around him, and buried my head in his chest. His body stiffened at first, then relaxed, and cradled my head with one hand, then rested his other hand on the small of my back. I allowed myself to weep shamelessly. He didn't stop me, but kept me close to his body and murmured something into my hair. Eventually, we found ourselves on he couch, my eyes swollen from crying, my body completely limp from exhaustion. He kept me close to his chest, and I curled up to his body. He stroked my hair.  
  
"How did you get so good at this?" I whispered. I had stopped crying, at least for the time being. I was all out of tears.  
  
"I had a good teacher," he whispered.  
  
All I wanted was to get lost in him. I wanted, I needed to escape. All I could think about was getting back with him, getting him to stay with me, having him there no matter what. The way we had been. It was comfortable. It was familiar. And all I needed was something familiar.  
  
"Spin," I whispered, reaching up to touch his face. I brought my whole mouth up to his. And I kissed him.  
  
"Wait," he said. "Paige, no."  
  
I pulled back, stunned. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I can't do this," he said, getting up.  
  
"What's. . . what's wrong?"  
  
"I can't do this. I'm not going to take advantage of you."  
  
"But you're not." Why wasn't this working? Why couldn't he help me?  
  
"No," he told me, coming back over to me. He sat down beside me, but not too close. "I want you, Paige. You know that. But right now you aren't. . . I can't let you do something you might regret."  
  
"All I did was kiss you," I whispered.  
  
"Paige. . . I don't want you to regret anything you do. If you still want to hook up in a couple of weeks, fine. But right now. . ."  
  
I nodded. "Maybe you should leave," I said softly, not looking at him.  
  
"Paige, don't do this." But still, a minute later, I heard his footsteps leaving, and the door closing softly behind him.  
  
I crumpled to the floor and started crying again.  
  
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"What kind of flowers do you think she'd like?" Dylan asked me later on. We were at the funeral parlour, making final arrangements for her funeral the next day. "Lilies?"  
  
"She hated lilies," I said softly. "She always said that they made funerals even more depressing."  
  
"What would she like?"  
  
"Daisies. Yellow daisies."  
  
Dylan looked over at the funeral director. "Yellow daisies it is. What about music?"  
  
I shrugged. So did Dylan. "Whatever you usually use."  
  
Usually use? He didn't usually plan my mom's funeral! How the hell was he supposed to decide what was 'usual' for her funeral. What was this to the guy planning it? Just another business deal? Just more money? Just another job!? Was that all my mom meant? The room started spinning. "I don't wanna do this."  
  
"Paige-"  
  
"I can't do this." I got up, out of the stuffy office, and ran out into the hall. The lobby was wide and open, but I ran right into someone. I looked up to see the stranger from the emergency room.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled, keeping his head down. We both backed up, then he looked at me. His eyes were red-rimmed. "You." His deep blue eyes just bore into mine.  
  
Something he had said when we first met hit me. "Your sister didn't make it?" It was the least socially correct thing to say, but I had a feeling that he cared about as much as I did. What was I supposed to say? How are you? We were in a funeral home. You don't go to a funeral home happy, even if it's someone you didn't know who died. Unless he was a complete ass, he wasn't doing well either.  
  
He didn't look offended by the question. Maybe a little bit surprised, but not offended. "No, she didn't."  
  
His words crushed my heart. Sure, I had just asked him if his sister was dead, but with his words came the realization that he felt about as bad as I was. "I'm sorry," I whispered.  
  
"I can't breathe in there," he said softly, his eyes still holding mine. "My dad's making all the plans, and he wants me to help, but. . . I can't do this. I can't make plans to put my sister's body six feet under."  
  
I wanted to reach out and touch him. Hold his hand like he had done like that night. Just hearing his words made me feel like he was the one person in the world who understood what I was going through.  
  
"The guy who's planning it just. . . it's like this is just business. She was business. She was my mother! My brother can handle all of this. He's just getting all organized, and he can deal with it. I just. . . I can't."  
  
"How did your mom die?"  
  
"She was hit by a truck. He was drunk. Ran a red light. She had. . . they said something happened in her brain. . . they couldn't have done anything."  
  
He put his hand on my shoulder. A current ran right through me. "I'm sorry," he whispered. It wasn't sexual, it was just him being there for me, me being there for him, just our presence.  
  
"Paige?" Dylan asked from behind me. I turned to see him, and the stranger's hand fell off my shoulder. "We still need to finish."  
  
I nodded. "I'll be in in a minute."  
  
He nodded, then went back into the office. I turned to the stranger. I guess he wasn't a stranger anymore, but I didn't know his name. "Thanks," I whispered.  
  
He nodded, then we both turned towards our respective offices. I turned back to him, just as my hand touched the doorknob. "How did your sister die?"  
  
He turned back to look at me, his eyes locking on mine once again. After a pause, he responded quietly, then disappeared into the office.  
  
"She killed herself." 


	3. Christmas Day

I'll make this quick. Yes, another sad chapter (I'd say this is the saddest so far, but feel free to disagree), and I have no idea whatsoever where it came from. And thank you all for all the reviews!  
  
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The funeral was hell. I couldn't remember much, but I didn't cry, and it made me physically sick to hear what people were saying about her. Dylan did the eulogy. He had offered it to me, but I couldn't. Dylan still hadn't cried. It was like he hadn't been affected by it. No, he had been affected by it, he just. . . he was dealing with it. I wasn't.  
  
I wanted to go back to school about a week after the funeral, but school was out for Christmas. I didn't want to deal with Christmas at all. It was all about coming together. Who care? What about the people who didn't come together, who couldn't come together. On Christmas eve, I made a list of all the reasons I hated Christmas and why it should be made illegal. I didn't show anyone else.  
  
Christmas day, my two aunts came over. They were both younger than my mom and both lived pretty close. Aunt Alicia was married with two kids- Laurie, 4, and Megan, 2. Both girls were awesome. Her husband was pretty cool too. My aunt Amy came with her new boyfriend. I had gotten a few of them presents before the accident, but whoever I hadn't shopped for before had been forgotten. They didn't make a fuss.  
  
After the presents, I excused myself, took my things, and went to lie down in my room. I wanted to shoot most of them. They were acting happy. How could they just be happy on my mom's favourite holiday? My mom's favourite holiday she couldn't be here for because she was dead. I decided against punching a wall, and instead but on one of my new CDs and cried. No one had to know how upset I was. I cried quietly, all alone.  
  
I cried until I had no more tears left. My pillow, face, and hair were all damp, and I was cold, but I just lied there, staring into space, and thinking about my mom.  
  
"Paige?" a small voice asked from the other side of the door. It opened, and I small head poked in. "I allowed in?"  
  
I looked down at Laurie. She was dressed up in a fancy Christmas dress, which featured a skirt that puffed out when she twirled- she was very proud of this fact-, black dress shoes, and her curly brown hair had been pulled back with a Christmas barrette.  
  
I wiped my face and tried to smile. "Sure you can come in, sweetie."  
  
She smiled, then came in, shutting the door behind her. I went to get up, but she climbed up in my bed and climbed on my stomach.  
  
"Why Paige sad?" she asked.  
  
I wanted to shout 'because my mom's dead, you moron!', but Laurie was to sweet for me to ever hurt her. "I'm just a little lonely."  
  
"Do you miss auntie Anna?"  
  
I studied her face. She was so innocent, and probably didn't understand that her aunt Anna was my mom. And she also probably didn't understand that her aunt Anna was never coming back. "Yeah, I miss auntie Anna."  
  
She took that as seriously as a four year old can take something. "Me too." She looked sad as well. "Mommy cried because she misses auntie Anna. She said that she went for a party to say bye to auntie Anna, but she wouldn't let me come."  
  
Apparently I hadn't been all cried out before, because I felt hot tears burning behind my eyes again. I didn't want Laurie to see me cry, so I blinked them back and swallowed the lump growing in my throat. I couldn't speak. Luckily, Laurie wasn't done.  
  
"Auntie Anna's the coolest!"  
  
"She was," I agreed.  
  
"She's nicer than auntie Amy. She always plays with me. Auntie Amy plays with her boyfriend. Why does auntie Amy play with a boy?"  
  
I almost smiled when she asked that. "I don't know."  
  
"Do you play with boys?"  
  
Had anyone over the age of ten asked me that, I probably would have been offended, but I took it from a four-year-old's point of view. Playing with a boy when I was four. "Yeah, I guess I play with boys."  
  
"Ewww," she squealed. "Boys is yucky!"  
  
I tickled her. "Sometimes. But I bet you'll like them when you're older."  
  
"Nuh-uh," she said proudly, sticking out her tongue at me, then giggling. Suddenly, her face turned serious again. "Mommy says auntie Anna's never coming back."  
  
This time I couldn't keep the tears from welling up in my eyes. "She's right, sweetie. Auntie Anna's never coming back."  
  
She looked sad when I said that, then looked at me with her big brown eyes. Completely trusting big brown eyes. "Are you going away like auntie Anna, Paige?"  
  
Tears spilled over. I wished I was going away. I didn't know if I wanted to die, or just get away from everything. "No, sweetie," I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Good." She realized I was crying, and brought her head down to my chest, then wrapped her arms around my neck. "Don't be sad, Paige." She gave me a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. "We hafta have birdie and can berries."  
  
"Do you mean cranberries?" I asked, wiping my eyes.  
  
"No. Can berries!"  
  
I smiled . "Okay. Let's go eat can berries."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
After our dinner of- among other things- birdie and can berries, my aunts and uncles started talking about mom. Megan and Laurie had been playing with Dylan, but Megan had crawled into his lap and promptly fell asleep, and Laurie's eyes were looking pretty glazed over while watching The Grinch for the thirty-seventh time. I was going to hide out in my room again when the phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" I asked.  
  
"Hey. Do you have a minute?" It was Spinner. I smiled slightly, looked into the living room, where my relatives were still taking without any sign of stopping. I dragged the phone cord as far was it would go, and I sat on the floor of the bathroom. The tile floor was cold, but I didn't care.  
  
"How are you holding up?" he asked.  
  
I closed my eyes and leaned against the bathtub. "I miss her, Spin. I can't stop missing her. Her sisters are here, and they're talking about her. I can't even listen to them. Christmas was her favourite holiday, and it's like they're just getting on with it. I feel like I'm all alone." I had talked to him once or twice since he had come to see me, but we had carefully skated around what had happened between us. "How's your Christmas going?"  
  
"It was okay. I'm just hiding out from my aunt."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"She's trying to make me do the dishes."  
  
"Wuss."  
  
"Hey, I've already suffered today," he responded defensively. "I wasn't allowed to have spray cheese with my turkey. . . don't roll your eyes at me."  
  
"How did you know I was rolling my eyes?"  
  
"What can I say? I'm psychic."  
  
"Are your cousins there?"  
  
"Oh yeah. All twelve of them."  
  
I smiled at the thought of his five-year-old cousins hanging off of him. "I hate it."  
  
"You hate what?"  
  
"Christmas."  
  
"It's almost over," he said comfortingly.  
  
I shook my head, but said nothing. It wasn't almost over. We were on the fourth day of a sixteen day vacation. Christmas wasn't just one day. It lasted two damn weeks. And then I'd have to go back and have everyone point and stare. Talk about the girl who's mom died. No one would ask me directly, but all would wonder behind my back. All the teachers would ask me how I was, and give me a break on work. Christmas wasn't just one day. At that rate, Christmas would last all freaking year. I squeezed my eyes tightly. I didn't want to cry again. "My aunt's calling me," I lied. "I have to go."  
  
"Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
"Sure. Thanks for calling."  
  
"Paige?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You're not all alone."  
  
The phone went dead in my hand. I didn't put it down, even when it started beeping at me, but opened my eyes and let the tears stream out. 


	4. Boxing Day

I have no idea where this came from either, but I promise it'll pick up in a chapter or two. I'm just going with the flow. I just needed to get a couple of things established.  
  
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I woke up to the sound of raised voices on boxing day.  
  
The night before, my Aunt Amy had gone home, but Aunt Alicia had stayed over. She and my uncle had stayed in the spare bedroom in the basement with Megan and Laurie had slept in my bed, but was long gone. She had tried to wake me up sometime around seven. I had stumbled out of bed, led her into the living room, and put on the Grinch. The poor kid couldn't go without the Grinch. Then I had collapsed back onto my bed and fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was the only thing that I really enjoyed. Sleeping.  
  
From down the hall, I could hear a movie coming from Dylan's room. I pulled myself out of bed and padded down the hall. Plopped up on a stack of pillows, eating Cheerios right out of the box (and missing her mouth more than actually getting in), Laurie sat watching- gasp- a movie other than The Grinch.  
  
"Hi Paige!" she exclaimed gleefully when she saw me, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Paige want Cheerios?" She gripped a handful and held it out for me.  
  
"Thank you, Laurie," I said, taking them again kissing the top of her head. "Whatcha watching?"  
  
"Mulan."  
  
"Cool. Is it good?"  
  
"Yeah! You watch?"  
  
"No sweetie, I'm gonna go see Dylan."  
  
"He's talking to Mommy. I'm not allowed to listen."  
  
I thought it was strange, then it occurred that the voices I heard when I woke up weren't just in my head, or from Laurie's movie. They could have been from Dylan and my aunt. I crept up to the top of the stairs. None of them saw me, so I sat at the top of the stairs and watched. On the larger couch, my aunt and uncle were talking to Dylan, who was sitting stiffly on the love seat across from them. He didn't look happy.  
  
"No," he said firmly.  
  
Aunt Alicia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Even from the top of the stairs, could see they were long and perfectly manicured, matching her sweater perfectly. I was sure that was no accident. That was the kind of person she was. Always had to have everything perfect, everything coordinated. It was like it was the only control she had. What kind of life was my uncle stuck living if she was like that? Poor Laurie. She was such a sweet kid and her mother was a control freak.  
  
"We're not saying you have to go through with anything," she explained calmly. "But I think you should at least call him."  
  
Dylan's face seemed to get redder, but I couldn't be sure. He didn't move. "No."  
  
"I know things haven't been good between you two in the past, but he is your father-"  
  
"No, he's not." I'd seen Dylan mad before, I'd seen him get into fistfights before (occasionally because of me), but he was angrier than I'd ever seen him before.  
  
"Dylan- "  
  
"No. You don't get a say in this. He and I share a Y-chromosome. The relation ends there."  
  
"He's still your father!"  
  
"No, you don't get a say in this. You've got your perfect two-point-two kids, perfect marriage and white-picket fence family. You don't know shit about what's going on, and you don't get a say in how I deal with this."  
  
"What about Paige? You can live on your own, fine. But Paige still has a couple of months to go. She has to be under somebody's care."  
  
"I'm twenty. I've already checked into this. I am going to become Paige's primary caregiver until she turns eighteen."  
  
"Dylan!"  
  
"No. I've thought about this long and hard. I know my sister, and I know what's best for her. And I know that sending her to live with that bastard isn't going to do anything to help anyone except assuage your guilt her death!"  
  
"So what do you plan on doing? Dropping out of university?"  
  
"I'll move out of residence. It's only a half hour on the go-train."  
  
"And when Paige gets sick? When you get sick?"  
  
"Paige and I have been sick before."  
  
"What about money?"  
  
"Money's not an issue and you know it. We're going to see the lawyer next week, but I know pretty well how much we get."  
  
Part of me what happy that Dylan knew all this, had thought about all of this, but another part of me felt anxious. Did he care at all that our mom was dead? How had he been able to plan all this and still deal with her death?  
  
"We'll talk about this later," my aunt finally said. "Amy's on her way over, and we'll discuss this with her and Paige."  
  
"There is no discussion," Dylan said, carefully emphasizing his words.  
  
I looked down and saw that the handful of Cheerios that Laurie had handed me were dust in my hand. Before I could hear what they said next, I decided to go for a shower. I wanted to look good someone- or some group of people- decided what was best for me.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Paige?" Someone called from down the hall. "Pai-ige?!"  
  
I opened my door and stuck my head out into the hall. Laurie was headed towards me, her mop of loose curls bouncing. I let her in.  
  
"Auntie Amy's here."  
  
"When did she get here?"  
  
"I don't tell time."  
  
I pulled my wet hair back into a ponytail. "Do you know why she's here?"  
  
"Mommy told me to say hi and go away. Mommy and Daddy wants to talk to her and the boy."  
  
"That's her boyfriend, sweetie."  
  
She ignored me. "Mommy told Dylan to go away too. Mommy's mad."  
  
"Who's she mad at?"  
  
"I don't know. I be good today. And I'm bored-ed."  
  
"You're bored-ed? Why don't we go find you a movie."  
  
"But I watch-ed two movies today." She put up three fingers to reinforce her point. I almost smiled.  
  
"Can you watch another one? I know it's boring, but they have to do some grown-up stuff."  
  
"You play with me!"  
  
"I have to be a grown-up today."  
  
"No," she cried, lunging towards my leg. "You can't be a growed-up."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Growed-ups can't be friends with kids."  
  
I wanted to tell her that she was right, that adults and kids- adults and teenagers even- never saw eye to eye.  
  
"How 'bout this? I'll be a grown-up this afternoon, but I'll be a kid again later."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"I promise."  
  
She let go of my leg, and I coaxed her into going into Dylan's room to watch another movie. I was about to sit down and watch it with her, when Dylan materialized in the doorway.  
  
"Can I talk to you Paige?"  
  
"Sure." I got up, despite protests from Laurie, and joined him in the hall.  
  
"Dylan wanna watch?" she shouted from inside the room.  
  
"Maybe later, Laurie."  
  
"Why's Aunt Amy here?" I asked.  
  
"They're trying to decide what to do with you."  
  
"I know. I heard you earlier."  
  
Under other circumstances, he probably would have been annoyed, but he just nodded. "What do you want to do?"  
  
I want my mom back, idiot! "I don't want to move. But I don't want you to drop out."  
  
"I'm not dropping out. I can move back home."  
  
I didn't want to have to decide. I was sick of having to deal with everything. First she died, which was more than I thought I'd have to handle for a long time, and then they expected me to be over it, and think calmly and rationally about where I wanted to live and who I wanted to live with? "I don't know, Dylan."  
  
"Paige, I need to you tell them that you don't want to contact dad."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Just trust me. Promise me, Paige."  
  
"I DON'T KNOW!" Immediately I regretted it. Dylan pulled back, and my voice echoed through the hall. I looked at him helplessly. "I'm sorry." Feeling about three years old, I broke down into tears. I slid down against the wall, and I started sobbing. I don't know exactly why, but all I could do was cry.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Dylan sat down beside me and put his arm around me. "It's okay," he said soothingly.  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I think we've found a solution," Aunt Alicia said to Dylan as we gathered in the living room once I had calmed down. I took the seat on the love seat beside Dylan, and mt two aunts sat next to their respective husband and boyfriend. Aunt Amy had her arm linked through her boyfriend's, and looked like she was about to burst.  
  
"First of all," Aunt Alicia began, "I still want you to give your dad a call."  
  
"No," said Dylan immediately.  
  
"This isn't up for discussion."  
  
"No."  
  
She just ignored him this time. Aunt Amy started talking. "We've come up with something that may work." She was grinning. "Nate and I are getting married. And we've bought a house around the corner from here."  
  
No one congratulated her, but she didn't stop. "And I think that you two are probably old enough to live on your own. So, if you two promise to check in with me on a daily basis, and to call me if anything happens, we'll just keep it at that. We'll let you two stay here."  
  
I stared blankly ahead. My mom was gone. My aunt was getting married. Dylan and I were really, truly alone. 


	5. Nicholas

I don't know what's happening, but I'm suddenly getting very inspired. The words are just coming. I can't promise that I'll be able to write this often all the time, but I'll try.  
  
Thank you all for your reviews! It's awesome. You're all awesome!  
  
Also, for all you who don't know (I didn't realize that they don't have Boxing Day in the States. Sorry!), Boxing day is December 26th.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I was freezing. I had a hat, scarf, mitts and my winter jacket, and I was shivering. Despite that, I couldn't bring myself to walk through the doors.  
  
It had been a week since Christmas. I was going back to school in four days. I still didn't feel much better. Dylan had asked me to come. He said it would be good for me. But he hadn't come.  
  
It was a support group for high school and university-aged people who had lost someone close to them. I had been to a support group in the same building awhile back, after I had been raped. I hadn't wanted to go, but they had helped me. I still went once and awhile, when I had a nightmare or started having bad flashbacks again. I took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.  
  
I found the room quickly, and though the door was open, I just stared in, seriously considering running away. There were guys and girls inside, something I hadn't seen in my previous support group. Some were talking, laughing even, some were alone, some were in a group, not saying a word. I pulled off my hat and gloves, and ran my fingers though my hair. I took another deep breath and walked in. I took a seat in the circle away from everyone, and I kept my jacket on, ready to bolt. No one really acknowledged me. I waited a minute, two minutes, three minutes. Just as I was about to leave. Someone came in and called the meeting to order. People took their seats. No one sat beside me.  
  
Everything seemed to buzz. Someone was talking? Buzz. Someone moved their chair? Buzz. One girl started crying? Buzz.  
  
From the corner of my eye, not too long into the meeting, I saw movement. I turned and saw the stranger from the hospital and funeral home come in.   
  
"Sorry," he said as the group gave him a dirty looking. It wasn't buzzing anymore. I could hear the chairs moving, the people talking and the girl crying. He took the first empty seat he found, across the circle from me, and sat down silently.  
  
I tried to listen, I really did, but all I could focus on was him. I couldn't really consider him a stranger anymore, but I still had no idea of his name. I watched the way he looked at others, the way he sat, the way he stared at the floor when someone else was talking. He had been through something like I had at the same time as I had. The same amount of time had passed for the both of us. Had he dealt with it? I sure hadn't. He looked tired, maybe more so than the last time I had seen him, or maybe I was just more aware of it. He wore the same jacket I had seen him with the first night. He sat forward with his arms rested on his legs. He was tall.  
  
After the meeting, a couple of people got up and hugged each other. Everyone seemed to get up. I felt left out. Once the room started to clear out, I followed suit. The stranger came over to me.  
  
"You again," I said softly. He rewarded me with a brief smile, but didn't look at me while he did so.  
  
"We have to stop meeting like this."  
  
I allowed myself to smile. "God, I wish we didn't have to."  
  
"How are you doing?" He looked up, and locked his eyes in with mine. Ordinarily it would have scared me, to have a stranger look at me that intensely. It made me feel like he could see right through me. But with him, I knew it was true. He could see right past everything. He was just like me. He was the only one who understood.  
  
"It sucks," I whispered. I didn't want to cry in front of him, but I felt hot tears spilling over. I quickly fisted them away and looked down. "It really sucks." I regained control of myself, then looked up. "What about you?"  
  
"About them same as you. Just grateful that Christmas is almost over."  
  
"That makes two of us."  
  
"Lots of family?"  
  
I shook my head. "Small Christmas. They pretended nothing was wrong in the morning, then all talked about her after dinner. They've dealt. I haven't."  
  
"Sounds like mine."  
  
"How'd you deal?"  
  
"Hit the eggnog hard before they started talking about her."  
  
The intensity I felt around him scared me. I didn't know what it was. It was a connection like nothing I'd ever felt before.  
  
"Have you come here before?"  
  
"I didn't know this place existed until today."  
  
"Do you think you're coming back?"  
  
"I can't think of any other solution."  
  
"I guess I'll see you next week then."  
  
"Next week," he echoed. We stared at each other for another minute before I was able to move. Halfway to the door, I turned back around.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Paige," I told him, zipping up my jacket. I waited for his answer.  
  
"Nicholas."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I pulled my hair out of the ponytail I had it in. Then put it back up, and pulled off my shirt, trying to find something else to wear. I picked out another shirt, pulled it on, and was about to pull it off again when I heard a knock on my bedroom door.  
  
"Come in," I muttered, flopping down on my bed.  
  
Dylan came in, careful not to step on the pile of clothes littered all over the floor, and sat down beside me on my bed.  
  
"Are you ready?" he asked.  
  
"No."  
  
We both sat there in silence. Although I couldn't wait to get away, I wasn't ready to go back. "They're all going to know."  
  
"How?"  
  
I shrugged. "It's high school. Besides, it was in the paper."  
  
"Do you want to stay home?"  
  
I shook my head. "I have to go."  
  
He nodded. "Are you going to be able to get a ride home tonight?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll be home as soon as I can. It'll take me awhile to clear out my dorm."  
  
"That's okay."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm okay Dylan." I plastered the best smile I could on my face, the smile that I planned on using for everyone. "I'm fine."  
  
"We should get going."  
  
"I need to change."  
  
He shot me a look. "You've been changing for an hour and a half."  
  
"Well you're a guy. You get out of bed a go. Whatever, I'll just wear this."  
  
He nodded, then got up and left. As he was closing my door, he shouted, "You better be ready in twenty minutes."  
  
I sighed. Was I supposed to look bad? Was I supposed to wear black? Why hadn't someone told me about this? Why wasn't there a rule set in stone about how to deal with death? Why did it have to be so hard?  
  
Finally, I decided that I should wear black. I wore blue jeans, but a black shirt. I didn't know if it was socially acceptable, but I didn't care. I decided to wear my hair up, then it came back down. Then up, then down again. Finally I just braided it so I couldn't keep playing with it. I took it out again and left it open.  
  
"I don't think I can do this," I told Dylan as arrived at school. My hair was up.  
  
He turned to me. "It'll get easier, Paige."  
  
"I don't want it to get easier! I want it to be easier now!"  
  
He waited before answering. "I know. I do too."  
  
I couldn't understand why he wanted things easier. He was getting through it without any problems. I didn't say it though.  
  
"What do I tell them when they ask how I'm feeling?" This was my biggest question. They were probably only going to ask to be polite, and wouldn't want a long answer. Then again, it would look like I was unaffected by her death if I said I was okay.  
  
"Slap them," he replied with a smile. "They ask stupid questions, they get stupid answers."  
  
The car behind us honked. "I better go."  
  
"Knock 'em dead."  
  
I tried to smile, then picked up my bag and got out. I walked up to the steps and froze. People. There were so many people. All of them knew.  
  
"I figure you'll be needing one of these right about now," a voice behind me said. I turned around to see Spinner holding two paper coffee cups. He handed one to me.  
  
"Thanks," I said, taking a sip. Chocolate Lovers Latte. God he knew me well. "Do they all know?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Everyone at the school?"  
  
"Probably. But they're all worried about you."  
  
"Doubt that." I looked back at the school, then thought of my nice, warm bed and the bottle of sleeping pills beside it. I could go home and sleep. "How much did I miss?"  
  
"Not enough to matter. Everything got crazy with Christmas. Are you doing okay?"  
  
I shrugged. "I guess."  
  
"Come on. Let's do this. And I'll personally make sure that anyone who pulls anything with you gets the crap beat out of them." I had no doubt that he would. And could. For the past year, he had spent a ridiculous number of hours in the gym, earning him an impressive build, along with the attention of many of Degrassi's most popular girls.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He turned around and looked surprised. "For what?"  
  
How could I tell him how much it meant to me, him doing all of this? I wrapped my arms around him, careful not to spill any of my latte on his shirt. "For being here today." I regained control of myself and let go. He was smiling.  
  
"I guess we should get to class," I finally said. 


	6. Back to School

Warning: I have just had a horrible week, and it's reflected in my writing. Pretty much all filler, maybe a tiny bit of foreshadowing. . . who knows. I promise there's more coming, and it'll get better. . . I'll try and get it out soon.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Paige, how are you feeling?" my English teacher, Mrs. Hewitt asked as I came into class. I put my books down, then went to the front to the class to talk to her quietly, as opposed to the whole class listening in on our conversation. Mrs. Hewitt, despite her best intentions, came off as a loud, intrusive, annoying. She was a fairly large woman with long, frizzy black hair she always wore in a messy bun.  
  
"Good," I told her, trying not to stare at her oversized hot pink sweater. . . thing she was wearing.  
  
"The holidays must have been hard for you."  
  
"A bit. Um, could I get the work I've missed?"  
  
But she wasn't done. "Holidays are hard as it is, and I can't imagine what you've been through. Did you have family come?"  
  
The classroom had filled up, and I noticed a couple of girls whispering. Mrs. Hewitt finally seemed to notice. She picked up a pile of papers from her desk. "This is what we've been working on. You need to do five of the comprehension questions from each chapter. We're starting the essay tomorrow, but you don't have to worry about that. We've also done a reflection on the movie we watched, but you don't need to do that. There's an oral presentation next week on any Shakespearian play, and a short story due in the theme of your choice. One thousand to three thousand words. If this gets too much, please, let me know."  
  
I stared at the inch thick book in front of me. "No, this is fine." I took the stack from her and silently went to my desk. It was going to be a very, very long day.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hey," Spinner said, coming up behind me in the lunch line. "How's everything going?"  
  
I shrugged. "Okay, I guess." We walked into the cafeteria and found our usual table, though no one was there yet.  
  
"Teachers aren't overloading you?"  
  
"Not more than I had expected," I lied. All morning I had recurring fantasies of beating them with the homework they were assigning me, all the while telling me how sorry they were. And the due dates.  
  
I looked down at the tray in front of me and picked at the green blob. "What's this supposed to be?" I started to picked at it with my fork. It was somewhere between crumbly and stringy, and a small river of oil ran down the side. I put my fork down and picked up the fruit. Ashley came over to our table. I stood up, and she hugged me for a long time.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she said, still not letting go. "We left before it happened and we just got in this morning." She had been all over the place for Christmas, a week down south, a week skiing, and a week back down south. We let go, and I looked at her. She was definitely tanned, and her hair was braided with beads at the bottom. "How are you doing?"  
  
I shrugged as we sat down. "Better."  
  
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here."  
  
"It's okay. Seriously. Now tell me about your vacation."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was finally last period. The day had been excruciatingly long. All my teachers had been sympathetic, but had piled on the work nonetheless. Last period was math, and I couldn't begin to imagine how much work was coming. My teacher, Mr. Larsen, had told me when we came in to see him after he gave the lesson. I went and sat down, grateful for the break after the science class I'd just had. He gave the lesson quickly, and I barely understood a word of what he said. He called me to the back of the room and handed me a small package.  
  
"I'm sure the other teachers have already piled the homework on," he began.  
  
I nodded. "Oh, yeah."  
  
He smiled. "So I'm going to try to make this easy on you. I gave them a bunch of work before Christmas that I'm sure maybe three of them actually got done. So you have the option of doing however much or little as you want. We've had two lessons, both of which you have photocopies of in there, as well as some handouts that you have to do. There's a unit test next Friday, and I want you to write it then, if you've been able to catch up by then. I'll be available almost everyday before and after school."  
  
"Sure," I said, trying to process all that he had said.  
  
"You're doing okay?"  
  
I was surprised when he asked. Mr. Larsen was a good teacher and a nice guy, but not interested in the lives of his students. I hadn't been expecting him to ask.  
  
"Yeah," I replied too quickly.  
  
He studied me for a second. "Good." Momentary awkward silence. "Will you be able to come tomorrow?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Do you want to go to The Dot or something?" Hazel asked me after school that day. I was crouched down beside my locker, desperately trying to stuff all my homework in my bag, but wasn't really getting anywhere.  
  
"I've got a lot of homework, Haze," I told her, stuffing one last book in, then hearing something rip. "Damn it."  
  
"So do I. There's enough time tonight."  
  
I looked up at and unintentionally gave her a deadly look. "I've got two weeks worth to catch up."  
  
"Oh, right. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow?"  
  
I didn't feel like arguing with her. "Sure. Maybe tomorrow."  
  
"Okay. Bye." I pulled the books out of my bag and tried to find the rip.  
  
"You look like you've had a long day," Spinner said, crouching down beside me. I looked up at him.  
  
"How could you guess?"  
  
"Rhetorical question?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Good. How'd it go? Need me to hurt anyone?"  
  
I smiled lightly. "I'd love you to, but I don't have time to list them off."  
  
"Okay. Then will you at least let me give you a ride home?"  
  
"I think I can do that." I started putting some books in, then closed it and shoved more books into a plastic bag.  
  
"They really did load you down with it."  
  
"Just a bit." I picked up my bags. They were heavy. Spinner noticed me flinch as I pulled them. He quickly took them from me, in addition to his own.  
  
"They loaded you down with English?"  
  
I shrugged. "I guess it's to be expected." After everything that had happened in the past month, I wasn't feeling like myself. I didn't see the use in whining about something I couldn't help.  
  
"Everyone being good to you?"  
  
"Yeah." They all had been pretty good. We walked out into the parking lot, into his car in silence.  
  
"How'd you spend new year's?" I asked.  
  
"Party at Jimmy's. Nothing big." I knew what was coming next. I didn't want to tell him. I didn't celebrate. I went to bed early and cried myself to sleep. I wasn't happy. I quickly changed the subject. I was making desperate conversation, trying to avoid more awkward conversation. I suddenly felt uncomfortable around him, like I was afraid of him knowing what I was feeling.  
  
"So what's going on with Jimmy and Ashley? Together? Not?" I couldn't care less, but it seemed like the right thing to say.  
  
Spinner laughed. "Last I heard, together, but that was an hour ago, so things may have changed by now."  
  
"We're they talking while she was away?"  
  
"Jimmy denies it, but. . ."  
  
"Jimmy's the worst liar around."  
  
"Bingo."  
  
He pulled up in my driveway and turned to me. "You want a ride tomorrow morning?"  
  
"Do you mind?"  
  
"Nah. Any excuse to drive."  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow." I picked up my bags, and struggled out of the car. I closed the door, and slowly made my way up to my front door. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Another weird chapter, but now I know exactly what's going on, so it should be picking up by next chapter. This one just kind of popped out after listening to My Immortal for an hour. I'm not going to make any promises of when I'll get more chapters out, but I hope soon. Just stick with me.  
  
And to everyone who stories I usually review- I will be doing that again soon, I promise! I've just been pressed for time, and I'm working on something big right now, and don't have the time. As soon as I do, though, I promise I'll check them out!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I locked myself in my room that night. I emerged once or twice to go to the washroom, and to microwave something frozen I had planned on eating for dinner, which I eventually forgot about, but otherwise I stayed at my desk.  
  
But working was another matter. I hated homework to begin with, but when you factored in the fact that I really didn't care, it wasn't easy to get it done. At the end of the night, I had finished half my English and two pages of math. I fell asleep at my desk sometime around eleven. I never even heard Dylan come in.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next night was the same. After two days, I felt like my life had become one monotonous black hole, where I was forced to deal with the same people and circumstances every day. Everything seemed trivial. But I smiled and went along with it.  
  
I showed up for extra help in math, and made my teacher happy. I understood what he said. I suppose that made me happy. But happy was a relative term. What was happy now as compared to a month ago? What would happy ever be again.  
  
On Wednesday, I was ready to loose my mind. My entire life was full of people who didn't understand. People who just smiled sympathetically. As amazing as Spinner had been, he still had no clue. Finally, when it seemed like all I had left was another pile of homework, I decided to take a break and go to the support group I'd tried a week ago.  
  
The support group hadn't exactly helped. But the people in there didn't make me want to throw myself off a cliff, so it was a start. There was nothing better to do.  
  
I was just as much of an outsider at the support group as I felt at school. Everyone was there in groups. Maybe it was just my imagination. Most of the girls were in pyjama pants. They reminded me of Manny Santos. I disliked Manny Santos very much.  
  
On some level, the appeal of going to the meeting was that Nicholas, the mysterious stranger I kept bumping into, had said he would be there. Or might be there. I couldn't remember exactly. All I could remember about our conversation was that he had understood. He had looked me in the eyes and he had understood. No one else understood. So when the meeting started and Nicholas wasn't there, I seriously considered leaving.  
  
But I didn't. I sat and I watched the other people. I hated how some of them could cry, and right away twelve others would be there comforting them. It all seemed incredibly selfish. It wasn't them who had died, so why were they upset? They were alive. Why should they get special treatment? Why should I?  
  
And eventually, the meeting did seem to pick up. When someone started talking about how mad they were. I liked the girl who said she was mad about what had happened. Everyone else talked about how sad they were, how much of a loss they felt. So what? Why didn't the rest of them feel mad? It wasn't fair to me that my mom died. It wasn't fair to Dylan that he had to move home to take care of me. So why didn't we have the right to be mad?  
  
And yet, after every single one of them had spoken, I felt more confused than ever before. Hundreds of words and emotions jumbled in my head. I didn't know what to make of everything I had seen. Everyone was acting differently, even though they'd all been through the same thing. How was that?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I was up late working on homework again. I knew Dylan had come home while I'd been gone, but we hadn't spoken. Around twelve, I finally gave up on my homework, turned out my light, and closed my eyes.  
  
But I couldn't sleep. From down the hall, I could hear Dylan unpacking. He had been working hard on it from the time he got home Monday night. I tossed and turned, but something kept me up. Finally, I got up for a glass of water.  
  
On my way back from the kitchen, I heard something. I couldn't quite tell what it was. I padded up the stairs, and the noise, still very faint, almost inaudible, became slightly more defined. The followed it all the way to Dylan's door.  
  
I gently knocked on the door, but when no one answered, I began to get worried. I knocked again, then went in. On his bed, Dylan was huddled over something. He looked up at me in the doorway. He'd been crying.  
  
"Paige," he said, quickly wiping his face. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I- uh- I just wanted to check on you. I just heard something weird."  
  
"My allergies," he explained lamely. "I was just finishing unpacking, and some of my stuff's really dusty. I was sneezing."  
  
I didn't believe a word he'd said, but nodded. "Okay. Good night."  
  
"'Night. Go to bed."  
  
"Yes father," I said teasingly.  
  
His face seemed to darken even more. "Just go to bed."  
  
I nodded, and quietly slipped back into bed. I lied down and didn't move, but I couldn't sleep, my mind racing, on top of everything else, wondering what made Dylan so sensitive about then mention of a father.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The rest of the week stayed the same. I worked hard, and pretended I was okay. The truth was, I was dying more than ever. Now I wasn't just caught up in the massive amount of work, or dealing with my mom dying, now I was worried about Dylan. I had never seen him cry before, not when he'd broken his arm when he was ten, or when he cracked his skull in hockey when he was fifteen. He hadn't cried when my grandmother had died, and he hadn't cried once after mom had died- until that night, at least. Something had bothered Dylan so much that he had cried. I didn't like it.  
  
Saturday morning, Dylan had left early to go to the on-campus library. After sleeping in and a long breakfast, I decided that the house was a mess. So I loaded the CD player, turned it up loud, and started vacuuming.  
  
I got to Dylan's room, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but snoop. Just because I was seventeen didn't mean I wasn't still a little sister. I vacuumed his room, then switched it off, and looked under his bed. He always hid his best stuff under his bed.  
  
Under the pile of laundry and snacks that I tried not to touch (I didn't even want to know how long they'd been under there), I found a small, leather-bound book. On the front, the word "Memories" was stamped in gold. I traced my fingertips across the letters, then opened the book.  
  
It was a picture album I'd never seen before. First came a picture of a three-year old Dylan, grinning wildly, holding a baby with a mass of blonde hair. Underneath was the caption "First meeting". I swallowed a lump in my throat, and ignored the chill that ran down my spine. Why hadn't I seen these pictures before. I turned the page. There was another picture of Dylan and I, then one of just me. I turned the page again, and I nearly dropped the book.  
  
It was a picture of Dylan, mom, and I, Dylan and I still wearing what we'd been wearing in the previous pictures, but this time, there was another man. He had his arm around my mom. He looked about her age, maybe a bit older. He had blonde hair. I knew who he was. My mom was a brunette. I had to get my blonde hair from somewhere. I looked down at the caption and swallowed a lump in my throat.  
  
"Family portrait," I whispered, reading the loopy script.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
I jumped and dropped the book. I stood up quickly. "Nothing- I. . . I was just- just cleaning."  
  
Dylan looked at me strangely. "Liar."  
  
"Whatever. The house was a mess." I pointed to the vacuum. "See?"  
  
"Why were you under my bed?"  
  
"Because it's gross in here. I wanted to clean it up."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "Thanks Paige. I appreciate you cleaning up. Seriously. This place is a mess. But it's not fair to ask anyone to go under that bed."  
  
"You've got that right." I nervously walked past him, and took the vacuum. I waited in the hallway for him to see that the book had been taken out. I held my breath.  
  
"Paige?" he called from inside his room.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Just drop it, okay?"  
  
"Drop what?"  
  
He came out into the hall, the book in hand. "This is a can of worms that you don't want to open." The golden letters reflected off the light. "Trust me."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Paige, phone!" Dylan called Sunday morning as I was cleaning up after breakfast. I dried my hands and picked up the phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Paige, get ready, I'm picking you up in twenty minutes."  
  
"Spin?"  
  
"Yeah. Be waiting outside."  
  
"But- where are we going?"  
  
"I'm taking you somewhere. Dress warm."  
  
I still hadn't caught up on all my work, English and math still unfinished. "I don't know. I should check with Dylan."  
  
"I already talked to him."  
  
"Fine," I finally agreed. "How warm am I supposed to dress?"  
  
"Layers," he said simply, and quickly hung up.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Twenty minutes later, as promised, Spinner drove up in front of my house. I had done as he had told me, and dressed in layers. "So where are you taking me?"  
  
"You'll see when we get there."  
  
"Spin, come on."  
  
"Nope. Buckle up."  
  
"You know you're going to pay for this," I warned him as he backed out of the driveway.  
  
"With you, always." He grinned, and I smacked him.  
  
"As long as you know where you stand."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I'm freezing," I complained as we stood in line. We were at a ski hill. He had brought all of his and Kendra's stuff (I was about the same size as Kendra), and we now waited for the ski lift line to move.  
  
"You'll warm up when we start," he said, pulling his hat off and handing it to me. I pulled it on and he laughed. I shot him a deadly look. He hung his head.  
  
"That's better," I said smugly. We moved up in line, and the chairlift came around behind us. I almost jumped, then relaxed as he pulled the bar down.  
  
"I haven't been skiing in ages," he said eventually.  
  
"Neither have I. I guess the only time I really went was. . ." I trailed off, not sure if I should finish or not.  
  
"When we were dating," he finished for me.  
  
"Yeah." We looked at each other for a minute.  
  
"I guess we don't have to give it up."  
  
"Yeah, I guess not."  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
"Okay, I guess."  
  
"Everyone's still worried about you."  
  
"They can stop worrying. It's not me who died."  
  
He looked at me with concern. "Yeah, but you still have to deal with it."  
  
I looked down, then collected myself and plastered the same fake smile on my face. He didn't need to know the truth. He didn't understand. No one did. There was only one person who I knew who understood. "I'm okay, Spinner." 


	8. Dad

This chapter may be a little short, but I think the next chapter really needs to be on it's own. So I'll let you read this and wonder what'll happen next. (Laughs evily). I'm actually really excited about writing the next chpater (Yes, I am a geek), so it will be out soon.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I wanna know about dad."  
  
Dylan looked up at me from the TV show he was watching. He didn't say anything. I sat down right in front of him, blocking his view. "I'm serious. I want to know what you're not telling me. And if you don't tell me, I'll go to Aunt Alicia."  
  
He sighed and sat up to face me. "You don't want to know about this."  
  
"Yes I do! Don't I have a right to know why I've never met the guy?"  
  
He sighed again, then walked over to the TV and turned it off, and walked back to sit across from me. "You did know him, Paige. But he left a long time ago?"  
  
"When?"  
  
"My fifth birthday."  
  
"I was two. Shouldn't I remember him?"  
  
"Honestly? I don't think you'd want to."  
  
"Dylan," I moaned. "Look, for years I've listened to you asking me not to ask about him, and why I don't have a dad on fathers day. I haven't bugged you about why all the other kids had dads who took them out and carried them on their shoulders, even if their parents were divorced. But now I don't have a mom. And I want to know why I can't have either of my parents!"  
  
He nodded slowly. "What do you want to know?"  
  
"Why do you hate him?"  
  
He opened his mouth and closed it again several times before he finally spoke. "He wasn't always a bad guy. As far back as I can remember, he was always my friend, at least before you were born. Maybe I was just too young to notice. Mom said that he didn't change after you were born. I guess it was me."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He would be a really good guy for weeks, months even. I remember he and mom were really, really happy. But then something bad would happen. And he'd start drinking. A lot. He'd stay out late, make mom cry. He'd yell at mom, yell at me, then pass out on the couch. He did it for weeks at a time. Then he'd come home one night, all smiles, say that he promised it would never happen again, that he'd straightened out, and be the good guy again. Until the next time."  
  
"How do you remember all this?"  
  
"Mom and I talked about this. Not that long ago. I wanted to remember everything."  
  
"Why'd he leave?"  
  
"Mom found out that the entire time, he was having one affair after another. And then one of his girlfriends got pregnant. So he came home drunk on my fifth birthday, and yelled at me, and yelled at mom, and packed his bags and left. He told her that his girlfriend was pregnant. He told her about all the affairs. She said she begged him to stay."  
  
"Do you remember her doing it?"  
  
"I remember her being upset after. And I was mad at him for making her upset. And then as I got older and I understood that he wasn't coming back, I just started to hate him more and more."  
  
"Did you ever talk to him again?"  
  
He sighed. "Once. I came out of school when I was. . . I guess I was ten. He wanted to see you. Even then I remembered how much I hated him, and how much I didn't want him in your life. And I guess that's when I decided that I'd never let you meet him."  
  
"You didn't think that I might ask about him?"  
  
"I knew you would. I just hadn't thought that far ahead. I guess after you saw the album. . . I had to tell you."  
  
"Why couldn't you just tell me the truth?"  
  
"I thought you were better off not knowing."  
  
"Why do you get to decide that?! It's not your life!"  
  
"I know, Paige," he said calmly, despite the fact that I was raising my voice. "Maybe it wasn't fair. But it's done. And you know. Can we just leave it at that?"  
  
I was upset. What gave him the right to control my life? "Whatever. I've got homework. I'll be in my room if you need me."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I can't believe it," Ashley said the next day when I told her about Dylan and my dad. "He never told you?"  
  
"Nothing. When I was younger, he used to tell me that it upset my mom to talk about it. The only person it seems to upset is Dylan."  
  
"It wasn't fair, I agree with you on that, but maybe it was hard for him to. I mean, he had to see what this did to your mom when he was five. Maybe it's harder because he knew your dad."  
  
"Maybe he was just making a big deal out of nothing."  
  
"Do you really think Dylan would do something like that?"  
  
"No," I admitted, "but it still makes me really mad. I never got to make the decision."  
  
I looked over at the clock. The bell was about to ring, and our spare would be over. I had to go to math, and I really wasn't in the mood for it.  
  
"Why don't you talk to him about it? Tell him?"  
  
I shrugged. Ever since I'd found him crying, things had been strange between us. I couldn't understand him at all. He seemed to be totally unaffected by the entire thing. I found myself questioning wether he had actually been crying, or I was imagining things.   
  
"Things are weird with Dylan right now," I finally admitted. "I guess I should just let things blow over first."  
  
"It's not a bad idea. But he's dealing with this too. Things can't be easy for him either."  
  
"I guess." The bell rang, and the hallway filled with people. We stood up, I got my books out of my locker, and I went to math class.  
  
God, school sucked.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
That night, I once again found myself on the steps of the community centre where the meeting was going to be held, but couldn't bring myself to go in. The past two meetings had been boring, and had left me feeling worse than before. I turned to leave, and found myself face to face with Nicholas. He looked surprised to see me.  
  
"Hi," he finally said.  
  
I couldn't help but smile. "Hi." We fell into our familiar pattern of watching each other, his eyes boring into mine, saying more than words ever could.  
  
"Are you going in?" He finally asked.  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"They don't understand you either, huh?"  
  
I nodded. "I don't understand them. For them it seems like some kind of bonding experience, like summer camp."  
  
He smiled. I had only seen him smile once before, and that was bittersweet. This time it was genuine, almost a grin. And he had one of those perfect smiles- his face was round, a baby-faced, but when he smiled, everything seemed to even out. He had while teeth and dimples. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but yeah, summer camp sounds like it. Everyone just wants to hug and sing songs in there."  
  
I nodded. "I guess they've been through the same thing we have, but. . . it still doesn't mean that they understand." I couldn't believe that I was saying all this to a guy who's name I barely knew.  
  
"But you understand."  
  
I studied him for a minute. He was no longer smiling, his expression thoughtful. "I understand what?"  
  
"Me."  
  
I was surprised by his words, but didn't disagree. I did understand him. He understood me.  
  
"So why did you come," he asked.  
  
"I guess I was hoping that someone who understood would come along."  
  
He smiled again. "Why don't you skip the meeting? Come have a coffee with me?"  
  
I was shocked by his invitation, but after carefully considering his words, decided that he meant nothing more than a cup of coffee. We could talk. It would be better than listening to all those others who had no idea what I was going through. I thought of being alone in my house, piles of homework in front of me. I thought of the coffee.  
  
And despite every voice in my head screaming against it, I found myself saying yes. 


	9. As Lovers Go

Ah, exams. Great time, huh? Thanks for sticking with me, and for your continued support.  
  
The lyrics at the end of this chapter are the song "As Lovers Go" by Dashboard Confessional, from their CD A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Here you go," Nicholas said, putting a steaming mug in front of me. Less than half an hour later, we were at a nearby coffee shop. It was busy inside, but things moved pretty quickly. He sat down across from me, but neither of us said anything. I allowed myself to look at him properly for the first time. He was younger than I had originally assumed, but still at least in his early twenties- I guess under the circumstances I had met him, anyone would have looked older. The messed hair that I had remembered was now controlled, normal. His dark hair matched his brown eyes. As I had said before, he was baby-faced, and he had a mole on the right side of his face, almost lined up with his mouth. Very Enrique Iglesais, and very cute. He was taller then I remembered- easily five or six inches taller than me. He wore a green shirt and a leather jacket, and I realized for the first time just how built he was- I almost ran off when I saw that. Memories of Dean- older guys, stronger, me thinking that they're okay- struck me hard. But I wanted to see what he had to say.   
  
"How did your sister's funeral go?"  
  
He didn't seem surprised by the question. He was always ready for whatever I had to say. "It went as well as a funeral could, I guess. Most of her school came."  
  
"How old was she?"  
  
"Fifteen." He still look tired, drawn, but he looked better than the past times I'd seem him. I picked up the mug- bowl really- of coffee and took a sip. It was good coffee.  
  
"What about you mom's?"  
  
I shrugged. "Same. I don't really remember it."  
  
"I hated how everyone made it about me," he finally said. "How am I doing? How do I feel. They bring a disgusting amount of bad food."  
  
"Like anyone actually eats that many casseroles."  
  
He smiled, but it quickly faded. "It's not me that died."  
  
"It's like they've suddenly become perfect. They could do on harm. Everyone wants to talk about all the good stuff. But that's not who they were. At least not all they were. I loved my mom, but she wasn't a saint."  
  
He nodded and took a sip of his own coffee, never breaking his gaze.  
  
"I think the teachers get the top prize for 'dealing' with this. How are you, how are you doing, oh, it's such a tragedy, so here's the past month's work, but tell me if it's too much. Oh, you poor dear."  
  
"My professors couldn't care less. I don't think they even know. They just pile on the work and expect that I keep up."  
  
"Why does it have to be such a taboo thing?" I asked. "There are the people who ask, but don't want answers."  
  
"Death scares people."  
  
I nodded. "I think my brother's dealing with this worse than anyone else. He just- it's like it doesn't affect him. And then I found him crying the other night. What's with this whole male-ego thing?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's not about ego. Well, it can be, but. . . look at everyone else in that support group. I guess we all have to deal with it in our own way."  
  
"This sucks," I said softly. This totally and completely sucks."  
  
He nodded. "And things don't seem to be getting easier."  
  
"Not really. And it just seems like everyone's getting more and more annoying." I took another sip. "It's like you're the only person I can talk to." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I was going to scare him away."  
  
But he didn't flinch. He took another sip of his coffee, and kept his eyes locked with mine. "Do you want to get dinner sometime?"  
  
My jaw nearly dropped. My head raced, then allowed myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Did he mean it like this coffee? Or like a date.  
  
"Unless you have a boyfriend," he added quickly when he saw my hesitation.  
  
I shook my head. "Nothing like that. I studied him again. "How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-two," he said, not ashamed or embarrassed, but his voice clear, confident.  
  
"Look, I appreciate the offer, but if you're looking for some naive high school student, I'm not her. You're wasting your time."  
  
"That's not what I'm looking for."  
  
"So what, you're into younger girls?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's not about age. It's not even about your looks- I mean, you are gorgeous, but that's not why I'm asking you out."  
  
"Then what is it?" I asked softly, feeling myself slipping into his earnest look, his deep blue eyes.  
  
"Because after everything that's happened lately, it feels like you're the only one who understands me. And that's not something I feel very often." I didn't say anything. It was true. I felt the same way. "Look, I'm finishing my degree in social work this year at Ryerson, I play Rugby, and I have no criminal history." He picked up his napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket, then scribbled something on it. "If you're ever interested, or you need to talk, give me a call," he said, getting up, and gently putting it down in front of me. "Thanks for the company."  
  
I looked down at the napkin in front of me, then back at the figure walking towards the door. The same voice in my head that had been yelling at me not to go out for coffee with him, was yelling at me to stop him. This time I listened. Without taking anything I had left around the table, I ran after him, and caught him just before he reached for the door handle.  
  
"Listen," I said softly. "I didn't mean for you to leave. I just. . . I was surprised. And if you can take into consideration that I need to take things slowly right now. . . I'd love to have dinner with you."  
  
He smiled that amazing smile. "I'd like that."  
  
For once, I smiled back. And it felt right. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."  
  
"You're an amazing person, Paige." Before I had a chance to think about it, he brought his hand to the small of my back, and quickly kissed me on the cheek. Then he was gone.  
  
And through the homework that night, and the crappy day the next day, I could still feel his lips on my cheek.  
  
She said, "I've got to be honest, you're wasting your time if you're fishing around here."   
  
And I said, "You must be mistaken, I'm not fooling this feeling is real."   
  
She said, "You've got to be crazy! What do you take me for? Some kind of easy mark?"   
  
"No, you've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion, but I swear that you've got me all wrong."   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I'll be true, I'll be useful, I'll be cavalier, I'll be yours my dear,   
  
I'll belong to you if you just let me through.   
  
This is easy as lovers go so don't complicate it by hesitating.   
  
This is wonderful as loving goes.  
  
This is tailor-made, what's the sense in waiting?   
  
I said, "I've got to be honest, I've been waiting for you all my life."   
  
For so long I thought I was asylum bound, but just seeing you makes me think twice.   
  
And being with you here makes me sane. I fear I'll go crazy if you leave my side.   
  
"You've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion,   
  
but are you brave enough to leave with me tonight?" 


	10. One Month

A week later, when I told Dylan that I was going to the meeting, I met Nicholas at a nearby Chinese restaurant. He let me choose it. The food was good, but the company was excellent. We both laughed. He said that it was the first time he'd been able to laugh in awhile. It was dark when we left, so he insisted that either he let me drive him or take a cab. I wasn't ready to be alone with him, when he could have complete control yet, so I took a cab. He waited with me outside for the cab, and when it came, he leaned in and kissed me gently. He kept one hand carefully on my shoulder, the other on my back, carefully avoid any uncomfortableness. The kiss was slow and perfect. He was perfect.  
  
"Wow, you're in a good mood," Ashley said the next day at my locker.  
  
"I was on a date last night," I admitted.  
  
She raised one eyebrow. "Really? Would this be Spinner and you getting back together?"  
  
I looked over at my locker, and busied myself pulling some books out, not meeting her gaze. "It wasn't Spinner."  
  
"Then who?" she asked. When I looked back at her, she didn't seem hurt that I hadn't told her, but genuinely interested.  
  
"This guy I met a couple of weeks ago."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Nicholas."  
  
"So. . . what's he like?"  
  
I felt a smile spread slowly across my face. "He's really nice. He's smart. . . I don't know. We had a good time."  
  
"Does he go to Degrassi?"  
  
I looked away from her again. "No. He's, uh, he's more in the city, instead of being stuck in the middle of suburbia." So it wasn't a lie. I was just allowing her to believe that he was in high school, not fourth year university.  
  
"Okay, enough with all that. Is he hot?"  
  
I felt the smile spread further across. "We're talking male model gorgeous. In that mysterious way."  
  
"Tall, dark, handsome?"  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Days started to go by faster after that. Still not as fast as the devastatingly long days before my mom was killed, but still, faster than before. We went out for a second time that weekend, and I explained to him that I needed to concentrate on studying for the next two weeks for exams. He took it well, and promised to come by with a coffee whenever I needed. But the night before my Math exam, the exam I was most stressed about, the exhaustion and the stress started getting to me. Plus, it was one month since my mom had died. Though I had promised myself to commit to studying, sometime around twelve I found myself holding a phone, his name displayed on the screen. All I had to do was press the talk button. Before I could change my mind, I pressed it.  
  
It started ringing. One ring. My heart was pounding. What if he was out? Two rings. What if he was sleeping? How stupid could I be to call him when he was sleeping? Three rings. He must have caller ID, and must be ignoring me. That had to be the answer. Four rings. Oh, God, it was the one month anniversary of his sister's death too. What kind of idiot was I. A little insensitive bit-  
  
"Hello?" His voice came smooth and low. He sounded tired, but not like he'd been sleeping. Just hearing his voice, the thought of him on the other end, and I felt whatever self control I had left starting to come undone within me.  
  
"Nicholas?" I said softly.  
  
"Paige. Are you alright?"  
  
I had no doubt that my voice gave away exactly how I felt. "Yeah, I'm just. . . I needed to talk to someone."  
  
"Tonight's hard for you, huh?"  
  
I swallowed hard and nodded. It took me awhile to realize that he couldn't see me. "Yeah."  
  
"Me too," he whispered.  
  
I imagined him there, in his apartment that I'd never seen, sitting in the dark, his hair mussed and his eyes red, just as he'd been the first time I'd met him. The image was powerful, and I longed to reach out and touch him, just feel him there, beside me, knowing that he was feeling the same thing. Just to feel his touch, human contact. To know that he was there, and that in that instant, he wasn't going anywhere. No phantom drunk driver to kill him. He could be there.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I don't know when I fell asleep, but when my alarm woke me up the next morning, I was spelled out sideways across my bed, shivering from lack of blankets, and still in my clothes from yesterday. My neck and the side of my face were sore, and when I sat up, I realized that I had fallen asleep on the phone. I picked it up, and heard soft breathing on the other end. Nicholas, I remembered. I gently put the phone back in it's cradle. I got up and looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, and my face felt sore. I brushed away some hair that had stuck to my cheek. I was a mess. I didn't care. My limbs felt tired and heavy, and I moved slowly when brushing my hair and getting dressed. I threw some notes into my purse to review right before my exam, and started downstairs.  
  
I decided against breakfast, but chose a cup of coffee to try and settle my stomach. It was quiet upstairs, and I realized that Dylan had already left. The keys sat neatly in the middle of the kitchen counter, and the car was out in the driveway. I wasn't fond of the idea of driving, but I had no other means of getting to school. I sighed, put my cup in the sink, and headed out to the car.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"That was brutal," Ashley said as we headed out of the exam room. "How do you think it went?"  
  
I shrugged. "Okay. The stuff from the beginning of the year was a bit fuzzy, but the part from the second unit went well." I pulled out my cell phone and turned it on to check the time. My stomach was still roiling, and I wasn't in the mood for food, but I had been invited to lunch at eleven. It was ten thirty. I'd just tell them that I didn't want to go. I was about to turn it off when I noticed that there was a message. I looked around for teachers, the listened for it.  
  
"Hi, Paige, it's Nicholas. I was just calling to wish you luck on your exam, and to make sure you turned your phone's off. Teachers get upset when you leave them on. Um, it's nine thirty now. . . my afternoon class is cancelled, so I was wondering if you wanted to get together this afternoon. There's something. . . anyways, just give me a call. We'll talk then."  
  
"Raditch," Ashley warned, seeing him walking down the hall. Quickly turned my phone off and threw it in my bag as he walked by.  
  
"Good morning girls," he said, not noticing anything.  
  
"So are you coming for lunch?" Ashley asked.  
  
I shook my head. "I'm still not feeling great. I'm just going to relax this afternoon.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." As soon as she was out of sight, I took my phone out and called Nicholas.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Nicholas was speed-dial 4 on my phone. First, I had Dylan's cell, then home, and then my mom's cell. I still couldn't bring myself to take her number off- like it would be some way of keeping her alive, at least in my mind. So I had easily bumped Hazel's number down one, and put Nicholas's in her place.  
  
I was standing inside the front doors when he pulled up in front of the school. He had a sports-y looking black car, but I couldn't tell you what kind if my life depended on it. I waited a minute, then took a deep breath and walked out. He looked over, surprised when I knocked on his window. He had been looking out the other way. He unlocked my door.  
  
"Thanks," I said, slamming the door behind me. "I smell coffee." It was a radar I had developed in grade ten- even if I couldn't see it, I could smell if someone had been near it. Nicholas smiled, and reached down beside him to produce two steaming cups of Tim Horton's coffee. I raised my eyebrows- the only real problem we'd had was when it came to coffee- he loved Tim Horton's. I, on the other hand, had trouble with anything other than Second Cup. Although he always insisted on paying, we'd settled on a rotating pattern of Tim Horton's and Second Cup.  
  
"It was my turn," he explained quickly. I smiled and kissed him quickly. When I pulled away, I couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. The night before had been hard on both of us.  
  
I nodded. "So where are we going?"  
  
His face turned serious. "There's something that we both need to do." 


	11. Graveyards and Rugby

I'm sorry! I felt awful for not updating, but exams had to take precedent over writing. I'm back now, and I'm hoping to have another chapter out this week. I promise I'll do my best! Thanks for sticking with me. And, while you're waiting (Or even if you're not), check out "Foolish Games" by Evenangelsfall22. It's a really, really awesome story!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nicholas stood directly behind me, one hand on my shoulder. The wind was cold, and it whipped my hair into my face, but I didn't move. I felt more hollow and more alone than I had since I'd last been here.  
  
"I haven't been here since. . ." he said softly. His voice came from closer than I had expected, his lips almost brushing against my ear, his words slowly swirling around my head before floating off into the wind.  
  
"Neither have I," I admitted.  
  
I turned around slowly, his hand never leaving my shoulder, and I stepped in as close as I could, my body touching his. I looked up at him, and felt myself slipping, falling deeper and deeper, into a void that I'd never felt before. It was as if a black hole was eating me up from the inside.  
  
"I don't know if I can do this," I whispered.  
  
We watched each other, every once in awhile, the corners of his mouth twitching, but no words ever coming out. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can either."  
  
We continued standing there, until one of us- I don't know which, finally turned towards the graveyard where both his sister and my mom were buried. We walked in silence, the frozen ground crunching under us. Without either of us really knowing where we were going, only a vague sense of direction from one of the worst days of our lives, we found our way to my mom's grave.  
  
It was a pinkish stone. Seeing it, I remembered Dylan asking me something about what colour she would have wanted it, but couldn't remember if I had said anything at all. Looking at it now, it made sense. It was the closest you could get to red. Blood. She didn't die peacefully, painlessly. It wasn't clean or quick. She died a bloody mess. A memory of the doctor coming into the waiting room the night she died, his green scrubs covered in her blood, popped into my memory. I squatted down beside her grave, so I was at eye level with her name. I pulled my mitt off my right hand, and traced my fingertips over her name.  
  
"Mommy," I whispered. Behind me, I felt Nicholas kneel down. I didn't move towards him, but continued tracing her name. I felt something trickle down my face, then realized that I was crying. I reached behind me, desperate to find something there, and found Nicholas's hand. I held it, and held me back, both literally and figuratively from falling over. When I squeezed his hand, he squeezed back.  
  
And I knew that he wasn't going to let go.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Thanks," I said softly as he pulled into my driveway. The ride had been quiet, both of us sobered by the trip to the graveyard.  
  
"You okay?" he asked, turning to me.  
  
"Yeah, I. . . no, not really." He undid his seatbelt, then turned to me. Before either of us could say anything, I found my mouth covering his, the whole world slipping away from me for just a little while caught up in the mind-numbing bliss. For just a little while, I felt the numbness inside me start to melt.  
  
"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked once we pulled away.  
  
"Nothing. Why?"  
  
"I've got a Rugby game tomorrow night. I was wondering if you wanted to come. I mean, it'll be boring, just a bunch of buff guys tackling each other." I felt a grin slowly spread across my face, and my cheeks heat up. He rased his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Nothing!" I said quickly.  
  
He grinned. "Don't worry about it. It's the only way I could get my sisters to come out when I'd play in high school."  
  
Sisters? This was news to me. I knew he had a sister, but she died. There was more than one? "How many sisters do you have?"  
  
"Three. I mean. . . I had three." The dark cloud I'd felt hanging over us before returned, the deaths in our families hanging around, darkening the mood. "So, if you want to go, I can pick you up before the game. Or, we can meet there and go out for dinner or something after."  
  
"How long's a Rugby game last?"  
  
"About two hours."  
  
"I'll meet you there. We can figure things out from there."  
  
He smiled, then leaned in to kiss me again. I finally pulled away, noticing Dylan watching me from the window. "I should go."  
  
He nodded, still smiling, and gave me the address and time for the game.  
  
"I'll be there," I promised, kissed him one final time, then headed into the house. Dylan was sitting on the couch, watching TV.  
  
"Who's the guy?" he asked.  
  
"Just this guy I met a couple of weeks ago," I told him as I went to the fridge to get a coke.  
  
"You didn't tell me you had plans today."  
  
I shrugged and plopped down beside him. "I didn't know I had to check in. Why are you home so early anyways?"  
  
"Last class got cancelled. Ashley called."  
  
"I'll call her back," I told him, standing up. "Anything good on TV tonight?"  
  
"There's never anything good on TV. Besides, don't you have to study?"  
  
"Nah, my last exam was today." I headed up to my room and lied across my bed. The whole day had been draining. Nicholas had been amazing. I wanted things to continue the way they were, keep staying good between us, but at the same time, I felt guilty, as if nothing good should be happening, especially so soon after my mom had died. I sighed, then picked up the phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Ash."  
  
"Hey. Where were you all day? Dylan said he hadn't hear from you."  
  
"I went out with Nicholas."  
  
"That's the guy you've been going out with?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I want to meet him sometime."  
  
"Sure," I agreed, already formulating a way to get out of it. Ashley was one of my best friends, but I wasn't ready to have her meet him yet. For now, he was mine. My escape. My world. My Nicholas. And I knew that Ashley wouldn't approve of how old he was.  
  
"What school did you say he went to again? St. Joe's?"  
  
"Uh. . . he's actually not in high school."  
  
"Oh. Where is he then?"  
  
"York."  
  
"University?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm impressed. So he's smart?"  
  
"Yeah. Seems that way at least."  
  
"Does he know what he's going to major in?"  
  
I decided against telling her that he was finishing his degree. "Um, I'm not sure."  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"No. I'm just thinking."  
  
"About what?"  
  
I shrugged, not caring that she couldn't see. "Nicholas, I guess. We've been dating almost a month, and there are so many things I don't know about him."  
  
"You don't have to know everything right away. Take it slow. You've got time."  
  
Slow. Our relationship had hardly been slow. Right away, we had skipped past all the awkward first dates. I couldn't really tell where our relationship was at, but it was going a lot faster than any I'd had in the past. "Yeah, I guess you're right."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Paige! Paige!" someone called after me through the halls the next morning. I stopped and turned around to look for whoever was calling me. When I saw that it was Liberty, I turned back around and started walking quickly away. Unfortunately, she caught me.  
  
"While I can appreciate the great personal loss you've suffered, I, as the yearbook editor, wanted to know if you had plans to join us again."  
  
Yearbook. Ugh. My biggest mistake. The year before, I was looking over my transcripts, and my counsellor advised me to get more extra-curricular involvement. Yearbook had sounded easy.  
  
"Yeah, Liberty," I finally said. "I'll be back."  
  
"Good. I expect you there tonight."  
  
"Tonight? I can't."  
  
"Why not?" She stared at me like she was a teacher and adjusted her glasses. I felt like a grade two who hadn't done her homework.  
  
"I've got prior commitments." Maybe if I used big words too she's go away.  
  
She thought about this for a minute, then finally nodded. "Tomorrow night then," she told me smugly, then walked away.  
  
Yeah, tomorrow could wait. I wasn't going to pass up dinner with my boyfriend for the sake of some picture book. He was too important for that. 


	12. The Game

As promised, I showed up at Nicholas's game the next night. The game was supposed to start at seven, so at quarter to eight, after staring at my closet for half an hour, I finally left the house.  
  
The parking lot where the game was being held was busier than I had expected. Apparently there were more Rugby fans in Toronto than I had expected. Finally, I found a spot at the end of the parking lot and went in.  
  
Like outside, I was once again surprised at how busy it was. I paid my admission, and found a spot near the top of the bleachers and tried to understand what was going on. I couldn't. I did, however, find Nicholas.  
  
He couldn't see me from where he was standing (I was too far up), but I had a clear view of him. He was standing to the side, breathing heavily, laughing with someone in the same colour shirt as his. The ref blew a whistle, and he started running. The was some throwing and confusion, but the next thing I knew he was tackling a guy who looked at least twice his size.  
  
This scared me again. He was older. He was bigger. And he was definitely stronger. What was I doing with him? I'd been down this road before. And I'd ignored the feelings in my gut telling me to be careful. Where had it left me? It had left me with something taken that no amount of therapy could ever get it back. I lost my innocence in more ways than one. And here I was, all over again, setting myself up for disaster.  
  
"Are you okay?" a girl sitting beside me asked. I looked over at her.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
"You don't look like much of a rugby fan," she said.  
  
I shook my head. "I'm not, really."  
  
She smiled. "Let me guess. Your boyfriend's on the team?"  
  
I thought a minute before answering. "Something like that."  
  
She laughed. "I'm Alicia," she said, extending her hand. I shook it and introduced myself.  
  
"So your boyfriend's on the team?"  
  
"Fiancé," she corrected. "There a whole group of us. Girlfriends and fiancees and wives who come out and watch. A couple of them are into the game, but mostly we keep each other company and try to figure out what's going on enough to talk about it later."  
  
I laughed. "Do you succeed?"  
  
"Once every couple of weeks. So which one is he?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Your boyfriend-or-something-like-it. Which one is it?" I looked down and pointed him out.  
  
"Nicholas, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Now there's a great guy."  
  
I had to look at her to see if she was serious or not. She seemed to be. "Do you know him?"  
  
She nodded. "You get to know the guys pretty well after awhile."  
  
"Any secrets you can let me in on?"  
  
She shrugged. "There's nothing you wouldn't already know. He's a little less macho than the other guys. . . um. . . he doesn't bring girls around that often. I think you're the first."  
  
"Is that strange?"  
  
"Nah, I think it's sweet. All the other guys are quick to parade their girlfriends around. He's not really like that." Neither of us said anything. "He's hot."  
  
I looked at her and laughed. "Yeah, he is." There was a series of gasps and boos from the stadium, and Alicia and I looked out onto the field. Nicholas was lying flat on his back with people crowding around him.  
  
"Shit," Alicia said, getting up. "Let's go see what happened."  
  
I nodded, my heart pounding. From where we were sitting, it didn't look like he was moving. I tried pushing through the crowd, but no one would move. I looked helplessly at Alicia. She cleared her throat.  
  
"Excuse me," she shouted with enough command that most people looked back at her. "Move out of the way." She raised her eyebrows, challenging anyone to mess with her. Some turned back, but most made enough room for us to get through. When I looked back on the situation, I was impressed.  
  
She led me through the crowd, then out onto the field, where the security guard didn't even question her. He opened his mouth to say something to me, but she shouted something about me being with her. We made it over to Nicholas, where he was fully conscious, still on his back, talking to the coach.  
  
"I'm fine," he said. "It's not like I've never been hit in the head before."  
  
"You lost consciousness," the coach said firmly. "Give it another minute, and then you're sitting out the rest of the game."  
  
"I'm fine," he said again. His eyes turned over to look at me, and he grinned. "Hey."  
  
"Are you okay?" I asked, kneeling down beside him. Everything was reversed from how it usually was, one of us injured from a metaphorical wound. My heart was still pounding, not quite over the shock of seeing him unconscious on the field. Just after thinking that I shouldn't be with him, my biggest fear became something happening to him. What was wrong with me?  
  
"You should see the other guy," he laughed, but winced slightly in pain. He turned back to the coach. "Can I get up now?"  
  
"You can get up, but you're not playing."  
  
"Come on. I'm fine."  
  
The coach turned to me. "Can you talk some sense into him?"  
  
"That's not fair!" Nicholas exclaimed with a smile.  
  
"And why's that?"  
  
"You can't use my girlfriend against me."  
  
"Fine," the coach replied. "Then save yourself some time." The coach stood up and brushed off his knees. "God knows none of the guys on this team have the balls to stand up to their women."  
  
I heard Alicia start laughing behind me. I suppressed a giggle. Slowly, he propped himself up onto his elbows, then shakily stood up.  
  
"You were going to continue playing, huh?" Alicia asked.  
  
Nicholas smiled, but grimaced as he walked forward. The rest of the team had mostly turned to watch the guy who'd hit Nicholas fighting with the ref. "Do you wanna get out of here?" he asked me.  
  
I nodded. "Sure." Slowly, we made our way to the exit. He insisted he was fine, and would never have let me help him, which in all honesty, I was grateful for. He was all sweaty.  
  
"I'll get my stuff and I'll meet you out here, okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," he said again. "All I did was hit my head."  
  
"Good." I smiled, then added, "It's not like there's anything breakable in there."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I waited for him and worried. I couldn't help it. I also kept replaying his one line over in my head, analysing and overanalysing his one line, 'you can't use my girlfriend against me'. Was that where we were? His girlfriend? Was I okay with that?  
  
"Ready to go?" Nicholas asked.  
  
I jumped and turned around. "Yeah." He was still wearing his uniform, and there was now a bump visible, partially covered by his hairline. He looked pale, and seemed wobbly.  
  
"Are you okay to drive?" I asked him nervously.  
  
He nodded, but I wasn't convinced. "I promised to take you out for dinner tonight."  
  
I watched him for a minute, then decided that he didn't get a vote in the matter. I wasn't going to risk losing anyone else in a car accident. "No," I told him. "You can take me out another time. I'm taking you home."  
  
He didn't disagree. We got to my car, and I pulled out of the parking lot in silence. He rested his head against the window. "Which way?" I asked.  
  
He gave me some basic directions, then returned to silence. I turned up the radio and let the sounds of Jack Johnson fill the car. I sang along softly, and I felt Nicholas watching me, a slight smile on his face. The song ended, and I turned it down.  
  
"So," I finally said, not allowing myself to look at him, concentrating on the road ahead. "What you said back there. . ."  
  
"It was the concussion talking if I said anything stupid," he said jokingly. "What did I say?"  
  
"Something about using your girlfriend against you."  
  
"Turn right here," he said, and once again we drove in silence.  
  
"Is that what we are?" I finally asked.  
  
He smiled. "I think that's up to you. But could you give me a hint?"  
  
"Then, I guess we are." I kept my attention on the road, but I couldn't help grinning. We drove the rest of the way with comfortable silence, the occasional joke or singing along thrown in.  
  
"Sorry I ruined our plans today," he said as I pulled up in front of his apartment building. "I promise I'll really take you out next time."  
  
"It's not your fault," I told him. "But, you may have to surrender to Second Cup for awhile."  
  
He grinned, and leaned in closer. "If that's what it takes to make you happy, you've got it."  
  
This time, even kissing him felt different, like suddenly everything had been made clear. I was his girlfriend. He was my boyfriend. There was no question about it. We were together. And if it had taken me a head injury to realize it, so be it. 


	13. Tracing

It's been awhile, huh? If you're still sticking with me, and if you're reading this, all I can say is thank you for sticking with me. I've been trying to write, but I came to a stage where I burned out, physically and mentally, and I'm finally starting to get back into the swing of things, and I'm fianally back with a new chapter. I don't know how long it will be until the next, but I promise, there will be one.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Slowly, things began to change between Nicholas and I.  
  
To a stranger, it may not have been obvious, but to us, we were beginning to see the difference. There was a tension that had been lifted, and we were slowly growing closer. There was a new comfort between the two of us, and I couldn't have been happier about it.  
  
We were both busy, him concentrated on Rugby and classes, me on classes, and (Uggg), yearbook. But we could push everything aside for each other, when we really needed it, and we squeezed in as much time together as possible. Although I was afraid to admit it for fear that I might jinx it, I was almost feeling happy. And it was a strange feeling.  
  
None of my friends had met him yet. Although I had told Ashley that he went to York, I still hadn't corrected her assumption that he was in his first year. And I couldn't bring myself to tell Spinner that I was seeing someone knew. Although we had broken up, he had always been there for me, and I didn't want to screw things up anymore between the two of us. Hazel knew I was dating a good-looking guy, and didn't press for any more information than what I gave her.  
  
After the concussion incident, I hadn't had a chance to go to anymore games, but Nicholas kept me up to date with vivid recaps of the games. I made mental notes to ask Alicia what he was talking about.  
  
After my first trip to his apartment, I realized that he had the world's most pitiful music collection, most likely all gifts, some still in their wrappers. So after that, every time I saw him, I burned him a CD. Even if it killed me, I would make sure that he was introduced to a world of Dashboard Confessional and Chantal Kreviazuk. Tonight, it was Yellowcard.  
  
"These guys aren't bad," he said, looking at the back of the CD. We were sitting together on his couch, a box of pizza open on the floor in front to us. We had started out using plates, but gave up after the first slice. "But the violin's a little strange."  
  
I smiled. "I'm glad I'm able to instil some form of music appreciation in you."  
  
"You still haven't convinced me of Brand New."  
  
"I will. Just give me time."  
  
He laughed, and poured more wine into my glass. I'd been to my share of parties with alcohol, and I'd been drunk enough, but he wasn't all about the hard liquor. It was a different with him, and it reminded me of just how much older he was. While I was teaching him about music, he was attempting to teach me about wine. I was starting to like it and its calming effects.  
  
"Those can wait until later," he told me as I picked up the plates.  
  
"What, you're planning on doing them?" I asked with a smile, putting them in the sink. "Because you and I both know that if I don't, there's going to be something growing on these plates before you clean them."  
  
He smiled, then slowly slid his arm around my waist, over onto my stomach, and buried his head in my neck. I nearly dropped the plates and my mind went completely blank. I slowly put the plates down, and turned to face him, never leaving his hold, and faced him, his face only inches away from mine.  
  
"That was smooth," I whispered.  
  
He grinned. "A Nicholas Davis signature move," he laughed before leaning in to kiss me. I allowed him, but his words echoed in my mind. A signature move. He'd done this before. Of course he had, it wasn't like he was some kind of celibate prince, but somehow, the thought of him being with someone else hit me, hard. I wasn't jealous, but a voice inside my head, the voice I'd done so well at ignoring, started coming back. How many girls had he been with? How much would he expect?  
  
"You okay?" he asked, pulling away.  
  
"Yeah. I've just got stuff on my mind."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
I smiled. "I think there are better uses for my mouth."  
  
As much as I tried, that voice never went away.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Come on, Paige, I have to meet him at some point," Ashley said the next day as we sat down at the dot with our coffees. We'd come with the plans to study, but ended up on the subject of Nicholas again.  
  
"You will," I assured her. "But I kinda like having him to myself for now. You know?"  
  
"I know, but still. . ."  
  
"Still what?"  
  
"I want to meet him. The guy who can make you smile like that?"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
She laughed. "Oh, Paige, you've got it bad."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're falling for him. Hard."  
  
I shrugged. "Maybe. There's something I haven't told you about him yet, though."  
  
"What? He's actually a prince, in addition to everything perfect about him?"  
  
"He's older."  
  
"Yeah, you said he's first year university, right?"  
  
"No. I said he's in university. You said first year."  
  
"Then how old is he?"  
  
"Twenty-two."  
  
"Paige. . ."  
  
"I know. But I really don't need any lectures."  
  
"I'm not going to lecture you. I'm not your moth-. . . oh, Paige, I'm sorry."  
  
I shrugged. "You can say it. I'm not going to have a breakdown." Although my words were confident, I felt something unravelling inside. I took a deep breath.  
  
"So how did you meet him?"  
  
I couldn't tell her that. At least not yet. I wasn't ready for anyone to know. "At a meeting." It wasn't a total lie. I had met him at a meeting. . . just after I'd met him at the hospital and a funeral home.  
  
"Well, I'm glad you're happy."  
  
"So am I, Ashley. So am I."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next week, Dylan was spending the night over at his university. He claimed he had to pull an all-nighter to finish a project, but I had a sneaking suspicion that there was someone else who was going to be there. So Nicholas and I decided to just take the evening slow, stay inside, and really get to know each other. We had rushed into a serious relationship, and we had never really experienced the getting to know each other stage, leaving us with so many thing we didn't know about each other.  
  
"What's your favourite colour," I asked him. We were lying on the floor, in front of the lit fireplace, mt head on his stomach.  
  
"Red. What about yours?"  
  
I thought about it a second. "Vanilla."  
  
He raised himself up on his elbows to look at me. "I may not be totally up-to-date on all the different colours, but I'm pretty sure that vanilla's a flavour of ice cream, not a colour."  
  
I smiled. "No, it's a colour. You know, it's darker than white, lighter than brown, but too pretty to be beige. Vanilla."  
  
I didn't need to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.  
  
"Favourite teacher?" he asked.  
  
"Grade nine geography."  
  
"You like geography?"  
  
"I never said I like the class. I just liked the teacher. Yours?"  
  
"Grade seven, I guess."  
  
"When did you start playing rugby?"  
  
"Uh. . . grade eleven. Haven't stopped since. When did this John Mayer obsession of yours start?"  
  
"Around the same time as 'No Such Thing' came out." I looked up to him to register the blank look on his face. "His first single."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I thought you would have understood by now, Nicholas, that you're the other man in my life. My Man on the Side, if you will."  
  
"Was that a John Mayer reference?"  
  
"Absolutely." I had decided that after enough music, he was finally ready to be introduced to John's music. And as much as he made fun of it, he couldn't have minded it that much.  
  
"Okay, I give up. I can never have you without John attached." He put his hands up in defeat.  
  
I grinned, then moved up to kiss him. "I should listen to John Mayer more often. If it makes you this happy."  
  
"Shut up and kiss me."  
  
He obeyed, but once again, I found myself wondering, so many unasked questions lingering in my mind, keeping me from losing myself in his kiss, his touch. I tried letting myself go, I tried letting everything go, but I couldn't forget, I couldn't relax. And I couldn't ask him, because then he'd go and ask me the same question, and I didn't want to tell him about Dean, and about my past. I couldn't get into that yet. I didn't want him to change the way he felt about me.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
I shook my head. "It's nothing."  
  
"Paige, you can tell me."  
  
I shook my head again, not trying to tell him no so much as trying to clear the doubts out of my head. Before I knew what was happening, I felt the question slipping out of my mouth. "How old were you when you first had sex?"  
  
He moved back from me a bit, and took a deep breath. "Too young. Sixteen."  
  
Sixteen was too young? How would I ever explain fourteen? And what did he think of me? I was only seventeen.  
  
"And how many. . . No, forget it."  
  
"What? You were going to ask me how many girls I've been with, right?"  
  
I was afraid of the answer, but still nodded meekly. "You don't have to tell me."  
  
"Four."  
  
Only four? That wasn't so bad.  
  
"But it's a fair question. For both of us."  
  
I looked away from him, and answer in an even voice. "None."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"So what did you say?" Ashley asked later that night when I called to tell her about what had happened.  
  
"I lied."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Nothing, really. I just don't know if I should tell him or not."  
  
"You don't have to tell him about Dean. But you shouldn't be lying to him about having sex."  
  
"But I haven't really. I mean, I have, but that was Dean, and you can't really have him understand without him knowing both parts. And let's just imagine that conversation. 'Hey Nicholas, remember the other night when I told you that I've never had sex, well, I was lying.'"  
  
"Then you don't have to tell him anything."  
  
"I know. . . I just. . . I have no idea."  
  
"Do you care about him?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And are you thinking about sleeping with him?"  
  
I didn't want to admit it, but I told her yes.  
  
"Then I think you should tell him. Everything." 


	14. Damaged

I know I've been horrible about updating and review other stories. I am going to keep updating, I can guarentee that. But time is not on my side, and it takes me awhile. Thanks for sticking with me!   
  
The song at the end is "Damaged" by TLC.  
  
Oh, and if there's anything you might want to see in this story, e-mail me and let me know. I'll see what I can do. ;)  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I thought about everything Ashley said long and hard. A part of me wanted to tell Nicholas about everything. I wanted him to understand. But I was afraid that I was romanticizing things in my head too much, thinking that he would automatically want to kill Dean, and make sure that nothing ever happened to me again. The way it would happen in the movies and on TV. The way he'd make everything alright, and we'd be closer than ever.  
  
Spinner had been amazing when I'd told him. He'd reacted as well as I ever could have dreamed of. Better even. But that wasn't the way guys normally reacted. Girls I'd talked to said that their boyfriends or friends couldn't look at them the same after. They said that their boyfriends couldn't touch them anymore. Or that their guy friends were too afraid to say anything for fear of offending them. They said that they felt like people looked at them like they were damaged. I'd felt that way as well. But Nicholas didn't know those things about me, and he didn't feel sorry for me, or like there was something wrong with me.  
  
What would happen if I did tell him? He wouldn't understand me? He wouldn't respect me? He wouldn't be able to look at me anymore? I would loose him?  
  
And that, I couldn't handle.  
  
"Paige?"  
  
I looked up and stared up blankly at my math teacher. "53?" I guessed.  
  
He smirked slightly. "I asked for the formula for question three."  
  
I felt my cheeks redden, and looked down at my paper. I blurted out the first equation I saw.  
  
My teacher looked a bit surprised, but said that it was correct, and went on with the lesson. Spinner tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a note.  
  
'Everything okay?', it read. I smiled back at him, then wrote, 'Fine. I've just got something on my mind. :)', then handed it back to him. Within seconds he handed me a note, saying, 'do you want to talk about it?'. I smiled, then looked back at him and shook my head. I wasn't going to talk about it with anyone, let alone my ex-boyfriend.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Can I ask you something?" I asked Dylan that night, plopping down on his bed. He turned his chair around to face me.  
  
"Shoot," he said, absently spinning a football in his hands. I looked down at the bed spread.  
  
"When you. . . when I said. . . when. . . ." I felt tears starting to form behind my eyes, frustration building within me for not being able to just say it.  
  
"In grade nine, when I. . ." I looked up sheepishly at him, hoping that he understood.  
  
"When you were raped?" he asked softly, not looking me in the eye.  
  
"Yeah," I whispered. "When you found out about it. . . did you think of me differently?"  
  
Dylan put down the football he was holding and slid his chair over to me. "In a way," he finally said. "I think I thought more of myself differently."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm your big brother, Paige. I'm supposed to be the big, mean protector."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"I always had been though. Remember grade two?"  
  
"When the grade fives were picking on me?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And you got suspended for flighting them?"  
  
"Yep. I had always been the one who protected you. And then I found out that this had happened. And I felt like I had failed."  
  
"But. . . it wasn't your fault."  
  
"To an extent, I felt like it was."  
  
"But you didn't think of me differently?"  
  
"Why are you asking about this now?"  
  
"No reason," I said, picking at his bedspread.  
  
"Is this about the guy you're dating?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"You want to tell him?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What are you afraid of?"  
  
I stopped picking at his bedspread, but still looked down, my eyes starting to burn, the sharp hint of tears forming behind them. "I don't want him to think that I'm damaged," I finally blurted out. "Just tell me that after you found out, you didn't think I was damaged."  
  
Dylan watched me for a minute, but said nothing.  
  
And I walked out before he had the chance to say anything.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Later that night, I was trying to concentrate on my homework, but couldn't bring myself to look at it. All I could think of was telling Nicholas.  
  
Or not.  
  
"Paige?" Dylan asked, knocking softly on my door.  
  
I quickly wiped my eyes. "What?"  
  
He opened the door slowly. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Do I have a choice?" I asked, turning back over to my work.  
  
"Not really." I heard him walk over to me, and sat down on the corner of my desk. "I think you misunderstood me earlier."  
  
"There wasn't a whole lot to misunderstand." I still wouldn't look at him.  
  
"I don't think you're damaged. I shouldn't have come across like I thought you were."  
  
"Then what did you think I was?"  
  
"I felt scared a lot. Like I would do something wrong or say something wrong. And I wanted to kill him. God, Paige, how I wanted to kill him."  
  
I still didn't look at him, but I felt some of the anger inside me starting to melt.  
  
"I'll let you do your homework. But just think about what I said, okay?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Friday night I was at Nicholas's again. I had gone to watch his rugby game- yawn-, and we'd ordered in Chinese food after we got back. We'd pretty much finished eating- straight out of the container. He was a university student, after all. And, of course, he had opened his customary bottle of wine. However, that night, we were on the third bottle this time when we finished dinner. I liked the feeling that was slowly creeping over me, finally being about to push the nagging thoughts out of my head, and leaving me finally to concentrate on Nicholas. So when he kissed me, I didn't object. Or when he took off my shirt.  
  
"Is this okay?" he asked.  
  
I was able to answer a calm, truthful yes. Something inside me felt uneasy, but I ignored it. Now that I finally could. To reinforce the point, I kissed him again. Hard.  
  
He went along with it. Time passed, and more articles of clothing were shed. I still felt like something was wrong, that I was doing something that I shouldn't. The temporary calmness from the wine was starting to wear off, and reality was sinking in. But I still pushed on. And he was the one to pull away.  
  
"Wait," he said, raising himself slightly. "Are we going too fast?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're okay with this?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
I almost regretted saying yes, letting him go ahead, under the impression that I was fine. But I wanted to do it. I really did.  
  
Next thing I knew, he was pulling out a condom.  
  
And I flipped out.  
  
The wine had worn off completely when I saw it, and I felt more sober than I had in a long time. First, I froze. Images of Dean flooded back. I think I screamed, but I'm not sure if it was just in my head. Then, I sat up and wrapped a blanket around me. I could hear him breathing heavily from beside me, but said nothing. With the blanket covering me, and my back to him, I hastily threw on my clothes and stood up. At the door, I stopped, but didn't face him.  
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I listened for a reaction, but when I heard none, I started walking towards the door.  
  
"Paige, wait," he said urgently as I turned the doorknob.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't go?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Just. . . just talk to me. Tell me what's going on. I can't read your mind."  
  
I ignored what he said. I couldn't talk to him. Score one more for Dean. The part of my life that I had finally put behind me was coming back to haunt me. I swallowed everything I wanted to say, and without emotion, I told him that I would call him, never looking at him for fear that I might break down and tell him everything. Silently, I left, closing the door softly behind me. Once outside, I leaned against the door for support and choked back my tears.  
  
"It's because I'm damaged," I whispered, my voice barely audible.  
  
I slowly walked towards the elevator, feeling deflated and numb. I got down to the lobby, and just as I reached for the door handle, I caught my reflection in the glass.  
  
My hair was a mess, and my cheeks were flushed. But that wasn't what I really saw. For the first time, I realized, that I wasn't that same little girl. I wasn't that naive fourteen year old I used to be. I had grown up, gotten past it. And after everything that I had accomplished, I wasn't about to let Dean come back and ruin everything again.  
  
I let go or the door, and turned around back to the elevator. I had no idea what I was going to say, or what I was going to do. I didn't know how he would react, or what he would think of me after I had finished thinking. But, this was something I had to do. Not for him, but for me.  
  
I reached his door, and I had managed to have an idea of what I was going to do. I knocked softly. I didn't hear footsteps coming from inside. I was going to turn around, thinking it was a bad idea to begin with, when he opened the door. We stared at each other. The words that I had prepared were useless. I couldn't remember anything.  
  
"Can I talk to you?" I finally managed to ask. Nicholas opened his mouth once or twice to say something, but nothing came out. He just stepped aside and I came in, shutting the door behind me.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I know I'm kinda strange, to you sometimes   
  
Don't always say, what's on my mind   
  
You know that I've been hurt, by some guy   
  
But I don't wanna mess up this time   
  
And I really really really care   
  
And I really really really want you   
  
And I think I'm kinda scared   
  
Cos I don't want to lose you   
  
If you really really really care   
  
Then maybe you can hang through   
  
I hope you understand   
  
It's nothing to you   
  
My heart's at a low   
  
I'm so much to manage   
  
I think you should know that   
  
I've been damaged   
  
I'm falling in love   
  
There's one disadvantage   
  
I think you should know that I've been damaged   
  
I might look through your stuff, for what I don't wanna find   
  
Or I might just set you up, to see if you're all mine   
  
I'm a little paranoid, from what I've been through   
  
Don't know what you got yourself into   
  
And I really really really care (And I care about you so much)   
  
And I really really really want you (I really do want you)   
  
And I think I'm kinda scared (But I'm scared with every touch)   
  
Cos I don't want to lose you (Cos I don't want to lose you)   
  
If you really really really care (If you care for me like you say)   
  
Then maybe you can hang through (Then maybe you can hang through)   
  
I hope you understand (I hope you understand)   
  
It's nothing to you (It's nothing to you, you)   
  
My heart's at a low (low)   
  
I'm so much to manage   
  
I think you should know that (I think you should know)   
  
I've been damaged   
  
I'm falling in love (I'm falling in love)   
  
There's one disadvantage   
  
I think you should know that I've been damaged (I think you should know that)   
  
My heart's at a low   
  
I'm so much to manage (I'm so much to manage)   
  
I think you should know that (I think you should know that)   
  
I've been damaged (I've been damaged)   
  
I'm falling in love (I love you so)   
  
There's one disadvantage (I love you so)   
  
I think you should know that I've been damaged   
  
And I really really really want you   
  
And I think I'm kinda scared   
  
Cos I don't want to lose you   
  
If you really really really care   
  
Then maybe you can hang through   
  
I hope you understand   
  
It's nothing to you (It's nothing to you)   
  
My heart's at a low   
  
I'm so much to manage   
  
I think you should know that (Ooh I think you should know I've been damaged)   
  
I've been damaged (I've been damaged baby)   
  
I'm falling in love (Falling in love with you baby, yeah)   
  
There's one disadvantage   
  
I think you should know that I've been damaged   
  
My heart's at a low   
  
I'm so much to manage   
  
I think you should know that   
  
I've been damaged   
  
I'm falling in love   
  
There's one disadvantage   
  
I think you should know that I've been damaged 


	15. Run to Me

I'm ba-ack. Hopefully, this time for good. I've had a really rough couple of months, but hopefully I'm now getting back into the swing of things. If you're still reading, thank you! You can't imagine how happy the reviews have made me! And I know that this isn't the best quality writing you've seen from me, but I'm still rusty, and it's a start. Thanks again to anyone who's still with me. You guys are amazing!  
  
I jiggled my leg nervous as I watched Nicholas make his way around his tiny kitchenette. He had offered me coffee, and I accepted, but we both knew that it was just a way for us to collect our thoughts. My stomach turned. I didn't feel ready to tell him. But then again, I wasn't ready to loose him either.  
  
I had thought about what I would say to him a lot. One day we would be watching a movie and I could just blurt it out. Or I would have him meet me at the coffee shop he first brought me to and tell him. The words I said each time changed. And in my daydreams, whenever I told him, I could never predict his reaction. Mostly out of fear- fear for how he would react, how he would think of me, how he would treat me. And I was so damn sick of being scared all the time.  
  
The "living room" only had room for a couch and a recliner. I was tempted to sit at the beaten recliner, but it was covered in an assortment of CD's, clothes (Clean. . . I hoped at least) a couple of empty pop cans and what looked like a pizza box. When he came over with the coffee, he looked over the mess as well, then sat down at the other end of the sofa and handed me my drink. Although there wasn't much more than a foot and a half separating us, the distance felt huge. We both concentrated on our drinks. Finally he loudly put down his cup.  
  
"What the hell just happened here?"  
  
When I heard him speak, he sounded angry, but when I looked up at him, he looked hurt more than anything.  
  
"It wasn't anything you said or did." I told him quickly. "It was me. And it's not that I don't like you, or that I'm not attracted to you. I am. A lot. And I wanted to, but-"  
  
Nicholas brought himself closer to me, and put a finger to my lips. "Paige. It's okay. I get it." He took his head away, and I looked down. "It's your first time. I understand that you're nervous."  
  
I shook my head, still not looking at him. Then, before I knew what I was doing I blurted out, "I lied to you." My head shot up. I couldn't believe what I had just said.  
  
Nicholas didn't look me in the eye. "About what?" he asked slowly, evenly.  
  
"You asked me the other night. . . I said that I hadn't had sex. . . I mean, I didn't totally lie. . . I don't think. . . but. . ." I looked up at him. "I don't know how to say this. I mean, it's not what you think. . . I've never really told anyone before."  
  
Nicholas said nothing, but I felt him slide his hand to mine, and attempted to lace his fingers through. I shook my head and pulled away.  
  
"When I was younger, I was too smart for my own good. So When I started high school, I decided that it was time that I started dating older guys. I was a cheerleader, and one day after a game, I started talking to the captain of the other team started talking to me. He was way older than me, but I was into it. I liked the attention. He invited me to a party. So the next night, my friend and I went.  
  
"I was flirting, I was dressed like a slut. . . long story short, I asked him to come upstairs with me. And he did." My voice was starting to shake. I still couldn't look at him. "I, um. . . when he started kissing me, something inside me snapped. I didn't feel right. But I so badly wanted the attention and. . . I guess I let him." I couldn't bring myself to say anything more, and I looked up at him. He swallowed hard. "Paige," he slowly asked, "did he. . ?"  
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I turned to face forward, and put my head in my hands, my elbows resting on my legs. I was so afraid of what would happen next. When he didn't say anything, I started to get up, but didn't think I could do it without losing it. Suddenly, I felt his hand slide across my back, to wrap around me. He pulled me in close to him, and I felt myself melt. I lowered my hands, and I buried my head into his shoulder. I didn't know what to do- did I speak or cry or do something?  
  
"I'm sorry I lied to you," I whispered.  
  
"It's okay," he said softly. I still couldn't make out his tone. Angry? Upset? Surprised? I wiggled out of his hold, and turned to face him.  
  
"I know I should have told you before but. . . I haven't been in this situation before, and I didn't know how I'd react. I just flashed back."  
  
"You don't need to explain," he said softly. "And you don't need to keep apologizing. I hate this guy. . . whoever he is, more than you can ever imagine. I hate what he's done to you. But he's taken enough from you already. I'm not going to let him take you away from me. And I'm not going to let him interfere with us."  
  
I leaned over and kissed him, but he pulled away. "Wait. There's one more thing."  
  
My heart sank. "What?"  
  
"I want you to know that I will never push you to do anything you don't want. And I will wait for you, as long as it takes. You need to understand that I'm not just in this for the sex, and I'm not going to bail on you because something comes in between us. We've already been through too much to let that happen. I know that one day you will feel ready. And when that time comes, I'll be here waiting. But, until then, I'm not going anywhere."  
  
I was completely speechless. I didn't have a clue of what to say. I just wrapped my arms around him.  
  
"Thank you." I whispered.  
  
"What are you doing next weekend?" he asked.  
  
I pulled back. "Nothing that I know of. Why?"  
  
"It's my sister's 24th birthday, and I'm going home to celebrate with my family. Why don't you come?"  
  
Meet his family? Was he serious? He'd barely talked about them, except for mentioning his sister who died once or twice. "Where?"  
  
"London Ontario. Skip on Friday, and we'll head up. We've got a ton of room."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah. Besides, I think it'll be good for you to get away for a couple of days. What do you think?"  
  
"Okay. Why not?"  
  
He smiled, and I yawned. It was getting late. I didn't have the energy to drive home. I didn't need to explain this to him. I just stretched out, putting my legs across his lap. He smiled, then stretched himself out, putting his arm around my waist, both of us on our sides.  
  
"Just five minutes," I told him sleepily. "Then I'll leave."  
  
He laughed. "If you say so."  
  
"No. Really. Just five minutes."  
  
I felt myself slowly drifting into the warm fog of sleep. And just before I was completely taken over, I could swear that I almost heard him whisper "I love you".  
  
Don't  
  
You don't have to save my life  
  
No  
  
You're not ready I can feel it  
  
Outside it's raining but I'll just go home  
  
Someday your heart will just let him go  
  
As soon as you get that feeling  
  
You can start to live again  
  
As soon as the worst is over  
  
You can make it all makes sense  
  
Right now I can't give you what you need  
  
As soon as you get that feeling  
  
Run to me  
  
Hush  
  
You don't have to say a word  
  
Trust  
  
I'm not gonna hate you for it  
  
Feels like my touch only brings back the pain  
  
Someday those memories will fade away  
  
As soon as you get that feeling  
  
You can start to live again  
  
As soon as the worst is over  
  
You can make it all makes sense  
  
Right now I can't give you what you need  
  
As soon as you get that feeling  
  
Run to me  
  
How can I be brave enough to say goodbye?  
  
I die inside without you  
  
Don't you see it's hard enough to walk away?  
  
Don't look at me,  
  
You make me wrong  
  
Been through this to make me strong  
  
As soon as you get that feeling  
  
You can start to live again  
  
As soon as the worst is over  
  
You can make it all makes sense  
  
Right now I can't give you what you needAs soon as you get that feeling  
  
Run to me  
  
As soon as you get that feeling  
  
Run to me  
  
The song is "Run to Me" by Clay Aiken off his CD "Measure of a Man". 


	16. Family

The next morning, after saying a quick good-bye to Nicholas, I headed home and attempted to sneak in before Dylan discovered that hadn't come home. I figured that there was no way that he would be awake at six in the morning, especially on a Saturday.  
  
Apparently I underestimated just what Dylan can do when he finds my Second Cup stash.  
  
As soon as I walked in the door, I could smell it. Coffee. A lot of it. I looked to the counter to see a pot that was nearly empty, and on the couch, sat Dylan, staring absently at the TV screen. I tip-toed to the stairs, and though I was home free when I heard him ask, "where were you?"  
  
I sighed and headed down to where he was. "I'm sorry I didn't call."  
  
Dylan looked up at me from the screen. "What the hell were you doing last night that was so important that you couldn't call me?"  
  
Dylan is most definitely not a morning person. He's also the kind of person who needs a lot of sleep. When he was playing hockey and had early-morning practices, he had to be in bed by nine o'clock. So even though it wasn't his first all-nighter, there was no good company for him, and he was pissed off.  
  
I sighed again. I was getting good at it. "Come on. It's not that big a deal. You've done it before."  
  
"This isn't about me Paige. This is about you!"  
  
"What about me?" I crossed my arms over my chest.  
  
"You didn't tell me where you were going. You were mad at me when you left. You didn't bother to call to say that you weren't hurt or that you were staying out all night! I called Ashley, Spinner and Hazel, and none of them knew where you were. So I checked if they knew the guy you've been going off with. None of them have met him. Spinner didn't know you were dating someone. Ashley didn't even know his last name! What's going on in your head Paige?!"  
  
I was furious. "What gives you the right to ask me what's going on? You're not interested in my life. And who the hell are you to be so hypocritical! You're not my dad!"  
  
As soon as the word left my mouth, I regretted them. His face twitched, but he remained calm. "You're right Paige. I'm not your dad. And it sucks that you never had one. But news flash, neither did I. And I'm not used to this either! So please, just cut me a little slack. I'm learning as I go, okay?!"  
  
I saw down beside him, but didn't look at him. "I'm sorry. I really don't know how to do this either. And it wasn't that I intentionally didn't call. . . other things were going on." When he said nothing, I got up and headed back to the stairs. I heard his voice low, behind me. It stopped me in my tracks, but I didn't turn around.  
  
"I hope you didn't do something really stupid."  
  
"You're going?!" Ashley exclaimed the next day at the dot after I told her about Nicholas's invitation to come up for his sister's birthday.  
  
"I think so," I said, absently playing with the straw in my diet coke. "I mean, I'd like to. . . I said yes."  
  
"You said yes, but you're not sure if you're going?"  
  
I shrugged. "I'm going. I just have to convince Dylan of that. He's not too pleased that I didn't call him Friday night."  
  
"I don't blame him. Has he even met Nicholas?"  
  
I shook my head. The truth was, Nicholas hadn't met any of my friends. I tried to tell myself that I just wanted him all to myself, but the truth was, I was afraid that the people I cared about the most wouldn't approve.  
  
"Why don't you have him over for dinner one day. Introduce him to Dylan. Maybe Dylan will ease up a bit."  
  
"And if he doesn't?"  
  
"Maybe he knows what's best for you."  
  
"Because I don't?"  
  
"I don't mean it like that. I just mean that if he says you can't go. . . he probably has a reason."  
  
"Everyone always has a good reason. This should be my choice, not Dylan's." I finished my drink, and looked at my watch. "I have to go. The aunties are coming tonight."  
  
"Sounds like fun," Ashley said sarcastically. "Good luck."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Paige come to play?" I heard a small voice ask from my doorway. I turned to see my little cousin Laurie standing there, her favourite doll tucked safely under one arm.  
  
"Oh, hey sweetie. I didn't know you were here yet. I'll come and play in a minute. I need to decide what to wear first."  
  
"Oh," she said, like it was the answer to life. "Did your closet throwed-up?"  
  
Clothes were scattered all over my floor. I wanted to make sure that I looked put together, under control, so that my aunt Alicia would know that we were moving on, that we were doing fine on our own. I couldn't decide on casual or dressy. I didn't know if I should wear my hair up or down. Was make-up too much? Nail polish?  
  
"No, sweetie, my closet didn't throw up. I just can't decide what to wear."  
  
"Oh," she said again. "Well, my mommy picks out my clothes." She walked over to the pile, put her doll down on my bed, picked up a hot pink blouse and handed it to me. "This pretty."  
  
"Should I wear this?"  
  
She nodded, and picked her doll back up. "It's pink, Paige. You supposed to wear pink."  
  
"I'm supposed to wear pink?"  
  
"Yes! Pink is for girls, silly."  
  
I smiled, and changed into the blouse. I decided to keep my jeans. Then I looked over at my nail polish. I smiled evilly. . . aunt Alicia would kill me for this.  
  
"Hey, Laurie, do you want to put on some hot pink nail polish?"  
  
"Mommy! Look at my nails!" Laurie exclaimed, running down the stairs, hand held out proudly.  
  
Aunt Alicia shot a look at me. "Who did that?"  
  
"Paige! It's pretty, right?"  
  
I was going to pay for this later. She looked at the look on Laurie's face and managed out a, "yes, Laurie. It's pretty."  
  
Laurie skipped off happily to show her dad. "Why in the world did you do that?" she asked me.  
  
I shrugged. "I was putting some on, and she wanted some. What's the big deal? I wore nail polish when I was her age."  
  
"Your mother was always too lenient with you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your mother always let the two of you have whatever you wanted."  
  
"No. She didn't. She was strict with us." I couldn't believe that she was criticizing my mom, even after she was gone. "And by the way, she did an awesome job." I didn't wait to hear her reply. I stormed out of the living room and downstairs, where Dylan, my uncle, aunt Amy and Nate, her fiancé were watching some form of sports on tv.  
  
"Alicia giving you a hard time?" Aunt Amy asked. I nodded, and she laughed. "Man, that girl has got to loosen up." She was about to say something else, then turned to the screen and screamed at the refs.  
  
Nate looked at me, smiled, and rolled his eyes. "It's the rugby that does this to her."  
  
"Rugby?"  
  
"Yeah," Aunt Amy replied. "Why? Don't tell me you've never heard of it."  
  
"I've heard of it. Actually, my boyfriend plays." As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. Aunt Amy and turned to me.  
  
"Boyfriend? Really?"  
  
I felt my cheeks flush. She turned around to look at me, the game forgotten in the background. If you didn't look at her, you could swear that she was fifteen. "So how long has this been going on for?"  
  
"Um. . four months, I guess."  
  
"Really. . . so is he cute?"  
  
I felt myself blush a little. "Very."  
  
"So why haven't I heard of him before?"  
  
I shrugged. "We've both been busy," I lied.  
  
"So what's his name?"  
  
"Nicholas."  
  
"How old's he?"  
  
"Amy, would you give her a break?" Nate asked, winking at me. I mouthed 'thank you' to him, and when Aunt Amy turned back, I headed back upstairs. Maybe Laurie had the right idea. . . watching Disney movies really was better than trying to deal with the adults.  
  
"So what have you been up to lately?" Aunt Alicia asked Dylan after dinner had been served.  
  
"Not too much. My course load was heavy this semester, so I kept a low profile," he said before stuffing a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Dylan had been seeing a guy he had met in class all semester, and the two of them had been getting serious. Aunt Amy knew that he was gay, but Aunt Alicia had no idea, and we fully intended on keeping it that way.  
  
"Have you been seeing anyone?"  
  
Dylan's eyes flashed the deer-in-the-headlights look, but quickly recovered by saying, "No one special."  
  
"But Paige is," Aunt Amy quickly supplied. I kicked her under the table, but she didn't say anything.  
  
"Really?" Aunt Alicia asked. She turned back to Dylan. "Have you met this young man?"  
  
I looked at him and begged with my eyes- I didn't want her to demand to meet him. I didn't want her to have access to that part of my life. I didn't want her disapproving stare.  
  
"Yeah, I've met him. Nice guy."  
  
I slowly released my breath, and Aunt Alicia turned her attention to another subject.  
  
"Thanks for covering for me earlier," I said to Dylan later that night, when we were finishing the dishes. Everyone had gone home, and we were finally able to relax.  
  
"No problem. But she did bring up a good point."  
  
I silently put down the plate I was drying. "Which is?"  
  
"I've never met him. I don't even know his name. You're off with him all the time, but I've never seen him."  
  
I shrugged. "We've both been busy."  
  
"I want to meet him."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't have a right to know who's taking my little sis out?"  
  
"I'll have him over one day. But I want you to promise that you'll let me keep seeing him. Whatever you think of him."  
  
"Why? Is he some kind of serial killer?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "No. He's a really good guy. I just don't want you to get all big-brotherish on me."  
  
"Okay. I promise I'll do my best to not go big-brotherish on you."  
  
"Thank you. Because we both know if you do that, I will have to kick your ass."  
  
He and I both laughed, but I still felt uneasy. There was no way that the two of them meeting could possibly go well.  
  
"Why don't you have him over for dinner next weekend?" he suggested.  
  
Next weekend I was supposed to be going home with him. And there was no way that Dylan was going to agree if he didn't meet Nicholas before. "What about Tuesday?"  
  
He shrugged. "Tuesday's fine."  
  
I swallowed. Neither of them would have any idea what they were getting themselves into. 


	17. The Dinner

"So your brother wants me to come over for dinner, huh?" Nicholas asked. It was Monday, and I couldn't put off asking him any longer. We were back in the coffee shop he had first taken me.  
  
"Yeah. I haven't quite gotten around to asking him if he's cool with me going this weekend."  
  
"You're still going though, right?"  
  
"Yeah. How far is it?"  
  
"About three hours. If we leave in the afternoon, we won't even have to deal with traffic."  
  
"Okay. Do I need to bring anything?"  
  
He shrugged. "Clothes might be a good idea, but I won't have any objection if you don't bring any."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Other than that."  
  
"Nope. Everything's taken care of."  
  
"What can I get for your sister?"  
  
"You don't need to get her anything."  
  
"Come on, Nicholas. It's her birthday. I have to get her something."  
  
"No, you don't. It's not a big deal. We just use her as an excuse to get together."  
  
"Okay. So, are you coming tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll head over after my last class."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Are you okay? You seem nervous."  
  
"Yeah, it's just. . . I don't know how my brother's going to react to you."  
  
"Why? Is he overprotective?"  
  
"He can be, but. . . okay, this may just be paranoia, but we've never really met each others friends, which is okay, because I did want to keep you all to myself. But. . . the truth is, no matter how great we are together. . . you still are five years older than me. And I don't care about that, especially not anymore, but he might. My friends might. Your family might. Your friends might. And I don't know how to make them understand that we really care about each other."  
  
He got up, walked around the table, and crouched down beside me. "I understand what you're saying. And I've thought about it too. But whatever my friends and family think, I'm too invested to let that stop me from being with you. You were there for me during the worst time of my life, and you understood me when no one else could. So screw whatever other people think. They don't understand what we're about." He stood up, and put his hands on my shoulders. "This will work out, okay?"  
  
"Promise?" I asked him.   
  
"Promise."

* * *

"Promise me you won't pull anything tonight, okay?" I asked Dylan the next night while he was preparing dinner.  
  
"Come on, Paige. When have you ever known me to do something like that?"  
  
I put my hands on my hips. "Do I need to remind you of the ex-lax incident when I brought Jeff home?"  
  
"It fell onto his dish! I swear!"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure. Just make sure that nothing falls into Nicholas's dish tonight, okay?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Thank you," I said cheerfully and quickly kissed his cheek. I heard Nicholas's car in the driveway. "Be nice."  
  
"I will, I will." I went to the door and let him in.  
  
"Hi," he said, kissing me. I said hi, and kissed him back. We let go, and I led him into the kitchen.  
  
"Dylan? This is Nicholas." Nicholas let go of my hand, and extended it to Dylan. Dylan shook it, but he only looked Nicholas's face. They let go, and Dylan turned back to dinner. We stood around in silence. I exchanged glances with Nicholas, but no one said anything. This wasn't going to end well.  
  
"So. . . Dylan, when's dinner going to be ready?" I eventually asked.  
  
"It's ready."

* * *

We all sat down at the table, and I served everyone's drinks. We served ourselves in silence.  
  
"So, Dylan, Paige sais you go to U of T. What program are you in?"  
  
"Sports management," he replied in a clipped tone. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm doing my honours in social work at Ryerson."  
  
"Honours? As in fourth year?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty two."  
  
Unlike when I had first asked Nicholas that very same question, this time he answered hesitantly. Dylan didn't look happy. I had lost my appetite, but I picked at my food.  
  
"Can't get a date your own age?"  
  
I dropped my fork and it clattered loudly against my plate. "Dylan!"  
  
"What? What's a twenty-two year old doing with a seventeen year old?"  
  
"Why does his age matter?"  
  
"You don't see something wrong with this picture?"  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Paige," Nicholas said softly, putting his hand on mine. "It's okay."  
  
"Not it's not!"  
  
"Okay then, maybe your date can answer a question. How did the two of you meet?"  
  
"My sister died the same day as your mother."  
  
"You met him in the hospital?!"  
  
"Yes. . . at first. . ." I stammered. "It wasn't anything like that. . . we met again afterwards and we started talking."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Paige, can I talk to you alone for a minute?"  
  
I mouthed 'sorry' to Nicholas, and followed Dylan into the kitchen. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Me?" I demanded, flabbergasted. "What am I doing?"  
  
"He's five years older than you!"  
  
"So what? He understand me. And he's been there for me. He understand what I'm going through."  
  
"I understand what you're going through, Paige. I understand what you're fucking going through better than anyone else!"  
  
"No you don't!" I felt an unexpected wave of sadness rush over me, and my eyes cloud up. When I spoke again, my words came out softly. "Ever since mom died, you've been able to handle things and keep moving. But I can't. I feel like I'm stuck. And I don't know how to deal with this or everything you told me about dad or my own personal stuff. So please, understand, that Nicholas is the only person who seems to understand this."  
  
"Don't you see how wrong this is though?"  
  
A tear silently fell down my cheek. "No, Dylan. I don't. Please explain it to me."  
  
"You're better than this Paige. You're better than being with someone because you 'need' them. You're better than being in a relationship because you feel lonely. Come on, Paige, you're better than some guy who can't get another date his age!"  
  
I didn't look at him. "Is that how you really feel about it?"  
  
He hesitated. "Yeah. That's how I feel."  
  
I nodded slowly, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. "Okay," I whispered, then walked out into the dining room. Nicholas stood up when I entered.  
  
"Do you want to get out of here?" he whispered. I nodded. Without turning around, I heard Dylan enter the room.  
  
"Paige," he started. I didn't look at him, but picked up my purse and jacket.  
  
"Don't wait for me," I told him softly, and Nicholas and I slipped out the door silently.  
  
"Do you want to talk?" Nicholas asked as we got into the car.  
  
I shook my head. "Please, just drive."

* * *

We drove in silence for awhile. It could have been a couple of minutes. It could have been ten. It could have been an hour. Complete silence. We both concentrated ahead, even though he was the one driving. Occasionally, I was sure he was looking over at me, but he never said anything. Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of some park.  
  
"What are we doing here?"  
  
"Let's take a walk. You need it."  
  
"I'm fine." Although I tried to say it confidently, my words came out shaky. He didn't comment on that, but instead got out of the car, then came around and opened my door. Grudgingly, I got out and took his extended hand.  
  
We walked along in silence. I didn't recognize the park, but it looked pretty, even though there was slush all over the ground. The path had the odd clumps of packed snow, but it was fairly clear.  
  
"I don't believe what he said."  
  
"Which part?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"All of it. He didn't know what he was talking about. . ."  
  
"But?"  
  
I sighed. "But this is what I knew was going to happen. No one understands. And Dylan was completely out of line."  
  
"He's your brother."  
  
I was surprised at how softly he said that. It was obvious, but he said it like it was something new. "Well, yeah."  
  
He shook his head. "What I mean is that he's your only brother. He's what you have left. . . and if being with you gets in the way of you two. . . I can't do that. You're amazing, Paige, but I can't come between the two of you."  
  
"It's not a big deal. Just. . . drop it, okay?"  
  
And he did drop it. But I couldn't stop thinking about Dylan and how he was going to react when I came home. He was the only family I had left. Nicholas and I stayed awhile longer, until I finally asked him to take me home.  
  
"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"Yeah," I replied. "And I'll be there on Friday."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll talk to you tomorrow. . ."  
  
"Okay." He pulled me in for a quick goodnight kiss, but I didn't enjoy it. The whole night had been too tense. I need to figure things out now. I didn't know how to react to him and to Dylan. And he probably didn't know how to react to me.

* * *

"You're back," was all Dylan said when I came in.  
  
"You don't say." I sat down beside him on the couch, but didn't look at him. "Look, Dylan. I understand what you said today. But you need to know that you're totally wrong. That's not what it's about. At all. And I get that you're not happy about this, but I am. And it's been so long since I've been happy. . . whatever happens, Nicholas and I are staying together."  
  
Dylan didn't say anything. I waited a minute, then two. Then I went upstairs, neither of us saying a word. 


	18. Coming Home

"You live here?!" I exclaimed as Nicholas parked his car. It couldn't be described as a house. . .it was too big. There were iron gates at the entrance of the driveway, which seemed to go on for miles, and the whole house was made of brick. It was gorgeous.

Nicholas laughed. "No. My dad and my sister live here. I live in Toronto."

"But you. . . I. . . wow." From the time I had met Nicholas, he had always seemed unlike any other guy. I mean, yeah, his personality stood out, but even his traits- always holding the door open for me, always waiting until I was safely inside before driving off, they were all foreign to me. I had never had any of my other boyfriends treat me that way. Now I understood. He was raised rich. Not just rich. Filthy rich. Suddenly I felt nervous. . . I hadn't brought anything fancy to wear. Would I look okay to them? Would I act properly? Would they approve of me? Nicholas had our bags slung over one shoulder, and slipped his hand in mine. I felt my grip tightening on his.

He looked over at me and smiled. "They're going to love you."

I tried to smile back, but my stomach was knotted. This didn't feel like my best idea yet.

Nicholas let go of me, pulled a key out of his pocket, and opened the door. I took a deep breath and we stepped in.

The entryway was huge as well. High ceilings and two winding staircases. There was tile when you first got in, then thick blue carpeting. He took my coat, dropped our bags, and led me into another room.

Although it was obvious that everything in there was expensive, the family room didn't look much different than any other family room. An older man sat facing the TV, with a motorized wheelchair beside his chair. The man looked tall, strong. He was dressed in khakis and a dress shirt, and he smiled when he saw Nicholas there. Without any trouble, he got up and came towards us. He hugged Nicholas, although it looked awkward for both of them. I was confused- if the wheelchair wasn't for him, why was it there?

ThenI noticed, sitting with the back of her head to me, there was another girl in the room. She has stayed so quiet and still that I hadn't noticed her before.

Nicholas's voice broke into my thought. "Paige, this is my dad, Peter Davis, dad, this is my girlfriend, Paige Michalchuk." Nicholas's dad extended his hand, and I shook it. I felt him studying me, although I didn't know if it was just because he was seeing me for the first time, or because he was trying to figure out of he approved of me or not. Before either of us could say anything, Nicholas was knelt down in front of the couch where the quiet woman was sitting.

"How's my favourite girl?" he asked her, his face lighting up."Nicky!" she squealed, and in a not-so-smooth move, she put her arms around his neck. Her fingers and wrists looked bony."I have someone I want you to meet. Do you want to go in your chair first?" I didn't see or hear any response, but in one swift move, he picked her up and took her over to the wheelchair I had seen before."Paige, I want you to meet my sister, Jessica."

She still sat completely straight, studying me intensely. Her face seemed almost squished, and her actions seemed rigid. I was taken aback, but I still managed to regain my composure enough to kneel down beside her and offer my hand. "It's nice to meet you Jessica." She looked at me, then back at Nicholas. He smiled, and nodded slightly. Slowly, she stuck out her hand.

"Jess," she managed.

* * *

When Nicholas and I were alone again, I mustered up enough courage to ask him.  
"What's wrong with her?"

Nicholas stopped and turned to me. "It's complicated. The easiest way to explain it is that just before she turned one, she stopped developing mentally. So her body grew, but her mind never matured. That's why she can't really walk, that's why she can't talk properly.

"How old is she?"

"Nineteen."

"Can I. . . can I still talk to her?"

"Of course you can. Actually, when they were younger, my sisters spent hours doing her hair. She's still a girl, she still enjoys that stuff." He stopped in front of a door. "I assume you want your own room?" I nodded. I still wasn't sure how I felt about spending the night with him. He seemed indifferent to my response, and opened the door.

"My room's across the hall if you need anything," he told me, turning on a light and setting my bag down.

The room couldn't be described as a room. It was a suite. There was a family room with a sofa, loveseat, recliner and big-screen TV. There was a washroom attached to both the family room and the bedroom, and the bedroom featured a king sized bed, another big-screen TV, sliding doors leading out to a patio, and a gorgeous fireplace.

Again, my only response was wow.

"Do you need anything?" Nicholas asked, joining me in the bedroom part.

"Nope. I'm fine." I turned around, slid my arms around his neck, then kissed him. When I pulled away, he was grinning.

"What was that for?" he asked.

I smiled. "Nothing. Just wait until you do something."

He laughed. "I like the sound of that." He kissed me again.

"I'll let you get settled in," he finally said, pulling back. His voice was soft, and although he sounded like he was leaving, he made no motion to go. We watched each other for a minute, before he started out of the room.

Once he was gone, I closed the door, took a deep breath, sat down at the foot of my bed, and pulled out my cell phone. My fingers shook as I dialled the number, and I felt my heart start beating faster when it began to ring.

"Hello?" I hadn't told Dylan that I was going. The past couple of days, things had been strained. We ate separately, and he seemed to be staying later at school. I locked myself in my room whenever I got home, and he didn't bother me.

"Hello?" he asked again.

I took another deep breath. "Dylan, it's me." There was a long silence on his end. "Hi," he finally said cautiously.

Then there was a silence on my part. "I'm not going to be home tonight."

"Okay. . . where are you going to be?" He sounded annoyed.

"Actually, I'm not going to be home all weekend. I'm with Nicholas."

"Where are you, Paige?"

"At his family's house."

A pause. Then, "Paige, what the hell are you thinking?! Going off somewhere with-"

"I have to go," I whispered, hanging up the phone. I set it down calmly beside me, before realizing that I could of just lost the only family that I had left.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Nicholas and I were curled up on one of the sofas in the first family room I had seen, watching a movie when I heard the door open, bags drop, then a voice loudly call, "where is everyone?" Nicholas quickly got up, and headed out to the hall. I got up and followed him out.

"Bigfoot!" the girl said to Nicholas."Small head!" he replied. The two of them laughed, then hugged each other tightly."How've you been?" she asked him once they let go."Good," he replied. "Serena, I want you to meet my girlfriend Paige. Paige, this is my sister Serena."

She turned to me and smiled warmly. Genuinely. I could see resemblances in the two of them- her hair was streaked red, but the main colour was the same as Nicholas's. Their eyes were identical, to his. Probably the first thing someone would notice. She was quite a bit smaller than him- probably my height, and a bit bigger build than me. Skinny though. She was dressed in jeans and a McGill sweatshirt, and had perfect skin.

Then strangest thing happened when we all went to sit down in the living room to talk. Her boyfriend (who Nicholas already knew) joined us, and they all started joking around. But instead of feeling like I was the odd man out, I gently leaned against Nicholas, and I felt more at home than I had anywhere in a very long time. 


	19. Covered in Rain

I've been looking forward to this chapter for a very long time. The song, yes, is where I got the title of the story. "Covered in Rain" is written by John Mayer (I mean, come on, who else?), and can be found on his live CD or DVD, "Any Given Thursday".

* * *

The next night, after the dinner and presents were done, Serena and I were sitting at the dining table, seeing just how much cake we could finish between the two of us. Nicholas and Eric, Serena's boyfriend, had gone off, distracted by something in Eric's car that made it go faster (What was it with men and speed?). Nicholas and I had spent pretty much all our time with her and Eric, but it was the first time that we were really alone talking.

"How long has this thing been going on with you and Nicholas?"

"Officially, two months, I guess. Two and a half, maybe? He's a pretty incredible guy."

She smiled. "That, he is. He's always been the one person I can count on."

"Were you two always close?"

"Not really. I mean, when we were younger, just typical brother and sister stuff. But when I was in grade. . . ten, I think it was. No, we were in the same school. It must have been eleven. . . anyways, I had a bad break-up with my first serious boyfriend. . . some dirtbag from school decided to take advantage of the situation. He took me aside, and we talked for awhile, and he was pretty nice about the whole thing. Anyways, he started coming on to me, and when I told him to stop, he wouldn't. Nothing went too far, but when I got home that night, I told Nicholas. Now, keep in mind, that Nicholas, up until grade eleven, was about my size. He decided to go after the guy. He ended up with a black eye and a split lip, but I guess we stuck together after that. I mean, he was the one person who really stuck with me when I was in the hospital and that whole mess." I had no idea what she was talking about, and apparently it showed on my face, because Serena explained.

"Our family has a really bad history of mental illness. You can see it with Jessica. Our mom was bipolar. . . basically, Nicholas is the only sane one. I was seriously depressed when I was eighteen. I mean, before then, but that was when it got bad. After mom left, everyone had been walking on eggshells. . . I crashed my car. On purpose, probably. I had been drinking. Anyways, they kept me in the psych ward for almost two months after that. . . my family- there were a lot more relatives around that time around here- thought I was being selfish, trying to get attention, that kind of thing. But Nicholas was there to see me everyday. It was us against the world after that."

I wasn't sure how to react. I could picture Nicholas there, everyday, making sure that everything was okay. At the same time though, I didn't understand how we could know so much about each other, and I could still have no idea about all this. I wasn't sure how to react. Outside, I heard thunder rumbling in the distance, and the door swung open.

"It's raining!" Eric announced, dripping, then leaning in to kiss Serena. One thing that I had noticed was that they were more in love than anyone I had ever seen before.

Nicholas came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders, then leaned in and kissed me as well. Over the weekend, he had seemed to relax quite a bit. When he kissed me, I held back, still not sure how I felt about what I had just heard.

We sat and talk for a couple more minutes before Eric announced that he just had to get out of his wet clothes, and insisted that Serena come with him. Nicholas and I laughed at them, then Nicholas suggested that he do the same.

We walked back to our respective rooms in silence. It was already eleven, but I felt weird about calling it a night already. When he got to my room, he stopped me before I went inside.

"What's going on?"

I didn't want to look him in the eye, where it would be so easy to get lost and forget everything that was on my mind. "It's nothing," I mumbled.

He gently brought his hand to my shoulder and pulled me into him. "Come on, Paige. Something's going on."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about your mom? Or your sister?"

He looked down for a minute, instead of at me. "Do you mind if I come inside to talk?" I shook my head, then followed him in.

Instead of sitting on one of the couches, he went straight out onto the balcony just outside my room. It was early April, but very warm for April, and despite the rain, very comfortable. There was one of those two-person swings, and we sat down to face each other. Through the clouds, the moon was trying to shine through, casting shadows across his face. For the first time in a long time, he looked young, fragile, vulnerable.

"I never told you about my family," he said slowly, carefully, softly, "because I was afraid of scaring you away."

My mind told me to be angry. Angry that he didn't trust that I cared about him enough to stay with him despite whatever had happened in his past. And angry that he felt like he needed to hide something like that from me. But instead, I moved in closer to him, sliding one of my hands onto his leg. His touch had always done so much for me. When I felt like things were horrible, or when no one understood, he could just put his hand on mine and it was like I knew he would be there, and he knew what I was feeling. I hoped that my touch would do the same for him.

"My mom was pretty messed up. Apparently it she had known she was depressed for a long time, but they didn't diagnose her with being manic depressive until after I was born. It was okay, a lot of the time. She was just like any other mom. Except that sometimes she would disappear for weeks at a time. Or sometimes she would hurt herself. Or sometimes I would walk by her room at night, and I could hear her crying. She took her medication most of the time. Then when I was fifteen, she didn't come back one of those times she disappeared." He closed his eyes, and seemed to try and shake off whatever he was feeling. He didn't look at me when he continued.

"Serena got depressed after that. She had always taken things with mom and Jess hard. She thought that it was her fault that mom had left- that had fought just before she left. Just after Jess turned two, when we were trying to figure out what was wrong with her, Serena was playing with her, and she fell off the couch. After that, Serena blamed herself for the way Jess is. Even though we knew something was wrong a longtime before that. And then there was Sarah."

The name didn't ring any bells, but there was only one option left. "Your sister who. . .?"

"Yeah," he replied softly. "She's the one who killed herself."

Lightning flickered across the sky, illuminating his face, and I could see that his eyes were tearing over, no matter how hard he tried to blink it away. Like he had so many times before, no matter what was going on, I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him into me. This time he leaned against my chest, and I wrapped one arm around him, and kept one right by his face, gently touching his hair.

"I didn't know how bad things were with her. I started university when she was eleven, and I wasn't home enough to know that she was having a hard time. I should have. . . I should have known that there was something wrong. I would have helped her."She came down to see me just before Christmas. My dad had a conference in Toronto, so instead of commuting every day, he and Sarah came and stayed there."I had seen her the day it happened. Something seemed different. I don't know what. We had gone out after my classes were out- I wanted to find her a Christmas present that she would actually like. So we went, and I dropped her back at the hotel. . . she hugged me goodbye, tight, which I realized on my way home that was strange, especially since I had offered to take her for a movie the next night. It took me awhile to realize that. Too long. I went back to the hotel. . . Sarah had a habit of losing hotel keys, so my dad had given me one, just in case. But when I got there. . . she was in the bathtub. . . I tried getting her our and dried off, and bandaged up. . . there was so much blood. . ." I

gently traced over his face, over the skin that I knew so well. As I approached his lips, he gently kissed my fingertips. We stayed there in silence, but it seemed appropriate that we were quiet, his head rising and falling with every breath I took.

"The night my mom died, they called me and said that she was fine. That she just needed someone to drive her home. A couple of bruises, but she was fine. And then I got there. . ." A lump logged in my throat. "I don't know how they could make a mistake like that. . . tell me that she was okay, and then. . . not be." Again, we were totally silent. The rain was still pounding down around us. Slowly, Nicholas got up and pulled me up with him. I stood there, face to face, his forehead touching mine."Come on," he whispered, his breath warm on my cheek."Where are we going?" I whispered back, although it didn't matter. By this stage, I would follow him anywhere. He took my hand, and slowly led me out off the balcony, down the stairs I didn't know existed, out into the grass, both of us barefoot, both of us being covered in rain.

He didn't say a thing, but put one hand around my waist, and held the other. He was dancing with me. I had tried to get him to go dancing before, but had always refused, using every possible excuse he could think of to get out of it. But he held me close, closer than he ever had before, and put his cheek next to mine. There was no music, but we swayed together, his cheek pressed against mine. The rain was coming down hard, and I felt it soaking through my clothes, dripping down off my feet. But I didn't care.

When the thunder started booming, and the lightning crashed again, we made our way inside, without a word. I followed him inside, shivering, dripping."I'm freezing," I announced as we stepped inside."I'll put a fire on for you," he offered, already heading into the bedroom. He did as he said, and before either of us said anything more, he had a fire cackling in front of us. He stood up slowly.  
"I'll let you get dried off," he whispered, his lips dangerously close to mine. Before I knew what was happening, I was peeling his shirt off, and dropped it beside him."We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to." I silenced him with a kiss. There would be time for talking later. A lot of time for that. For now there was something more important.

And without another word exchanged, I made love to Nicholas.

* * *

These days, with the world getting colder

She spends more time sleeping over than I planned.  
  
Tonight we're gonna order in, Drinking wine and watchin CNN

It's dark I know, but then again It's the brightest thing I got  
  
Cause I'm covered in rain

No, I'm covered in rain, rain, rain, rain  
  
Firewoods to fire places

Summer snow and fallen places

we're people watching, all the people watching, all the people watching you and I

Standing by the missing signs at the CVS by the checkout line

she puts her quiet hands in mine Cause shes the brightest thing I got  
  
When I'm covered in rain

Cause I'm covered in rain, rain, rain, rain

Cause I'm covered in rain

No I'm covered in rain  
  
It's alright If you dont wanna, go on

It's alright If you dont wanna, be alone

Oh It's alright If you dont wanna, wanna, wanna, go home  
  
I understand, I understand, I understand, you and me and everyone  
  
I'm covered in rain

No, I'm covered in rain

No, I'm covered in rain, rain, rain, rain

I'm covered in, covered in, covered in rain


	20. Relationships

I am so sorry for the delay in getting this out. I haven't forgotten, I've just had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I will finish it, no matter what! Thank you so much for all those who have stuck with me for this long!

* * *

The fire was slowly dying, crackling in the fireplace, just illuminating the room enough for me to make out his face. I rested my head against his chest, my body and mind still racing from what had just happened. Even though my heart had dropped to it's normal pace, it still felt like my blood was rushing through me. If Nikolas was a drug, I had just had my fix.

He kept his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and his chin rested on my head. Every so often, just when I thought I was beginning to relax again, I felt his lips brush against my forehead, ever so gently, and my blood started rushing even faster. And despite all of what I was feeling, at the same time I felt calm and serene, like everything bad was finally gone, and this was the start of something new. A new chapter in my life- a new Paige. He brought his other arm and curled it around my waist. I slid one leg between his, and rested the right beside his leg, my ankle making the perfect imitation of his. I laid one arm on his shoulder, the other around his neck. We were as connected as I could possibly imagine.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, his head slowly moving down to face me. I felt his breath on my cheeks as he spoke. I shook my head, but couldn't manage any words.

He slowly pulled back, leaving my head resting on his arm, but face to face with him. He brought his arm up from my waist and brushed my hair back from my face.

"Are you cold?" I shook my head again. I felt the sudden overwhelming urge to cry. I was so confused. I buried my head against his neck, covering my face, and breathed him in. I wanted to remember the night, the moment, everything. I wasn't unhappy, but I still wanted to cry.

"I love you," he whispered.

I brought my head out from the crevice that I had pushed it into, and watched him for a minute, tracing his face, taking it all in. Finally, I managed to push everything out of the way, and found my voice.

"I love you too," I managed though the lump in my throat.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. I couldn't sleep, but I didn't want to talk either. Nikolas didn't seem to want to either. The wind outside had died, and the rain pattered gently against the window. Finally, as the sky seemed to get lighter, just before dawn, I found myself drifting off to sleep in his arms.

* * *

"I'll call you tonight," Nicholas promised as he turned into my driveway. He put the car into park and turned to me. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

I sighed. I did want him to be there when I saw Dylan, more than anything in the world, but I knew it was something that I had to do on my own. "No, it's okay."

"Okay." He leaned in and kissed me softly. I still got tingly every time he kissed me. It was great.

"I'll talk to you tonight," I said when I caught my breath. "Bye."

"Bye." I stepped out of the car and he called me back.

"Yeah?"

He grinned. "I love you."

I grinned as well. "I love you too."

* * *

"Hi," Dylan said carefully when he came in that evening. He hadn't bothered to leave a note telling me where he was, but I figured he would have been home. Since I had so much nervous energy and I didn't want to do my homework, I had made spaghetti sauce and garlic bread.

"Hi," I managed back. _Hold it together_, I told myself.

We stared at each other for a minute, then both spoke at the same time.

"I made dinner."

"The food smells great."

I laughed, although it wasn't really funny. There was no doubt that Dylan was mad. I had fought with him, then up and left with Nicholas. The question was how mad was he.

I silently took out two plates and filled them with food, then set them on the table. Dylan had gone downstairs to get a couple of bottles of wine that my mom never drank, and poured two big glasses for us. I was surprised. It was like he was treating me as an equal.

"This should make dinner a little more pleasant," he explained. I nodded. I stared at the food in front of me, but I suddenly had no appetite.

"You remind me of mom," Dylan finally said, breaking the silence. "You remind me of her so much."

I tucked some stray hairs behind my ear. "Thank you."

"When I see you, I want to protect you because I was never able to protect mom. I couldn't save her from dad, and I couldn't save her from that accident."

"Dylan," I began, but he held up a hand to silence me.

"It was supposed to be me that night. She had asked me to pick up a couple of groceries on my way back, but I told her that I had to finish studying. Truth was, I had finished exams, and I was staying behind with this guy I was seeing. She shouldn't have been there that night. If anything, it should have been me. You're the only family I have left Paige. Don't you get that? I do want to protect you. And sometimes it can be annoying, I know. I really wasn't trying to hurt you when I got mad at Nathan or whatever his name is. I just wanted to make sure that you're safe."

I had no idea what to say. I had no idea that he had been carrying around all this guilt with him. "It's not your fault that she died."

He pushed his spaghetti around his place. "Are you happy with him?"

"Nicholas?"

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath. "I am."

He looked me right in the eye. "Then I'm happy for you. Just be careful, okay?"

I wasn't sure what he meant by be careful. With my heart, with sex, with being alone with him, or all of them?

"He's a good man," I assured him, finally taking a bite of my spaghetti.

"I'm glad. Because we both know that he's going to get hurt if he hurts you."

I giggled. It was good to have Dylan back.

* * *

I climbed the stairs to my room after dinner feeling stuffed and content. I managed to make my relationship with both Nicholas and Dylan. I dropped down on my bed, suddenly exhausted from the weekend, and heard a paper crumple beneath me. I reached under me and found an envelope from University of British Columbia.

My heart started pounding. I had forgotten about even applying. I had wanted to get out of Toronto so badly, and this seemed like the best option. Far, far away.

It was thin. Slowly I turned it over and ripped it open.

I got in.

I lied back down and basked in the relief of it all. I had gotten in. I could escape. I could make a new start, somewhere where no one knows me.

And then I started thinking. What about Nicholas?  
Suddenly my simple getaway wasn't so simple.


	21. City Love

A week later I found myself back at Nicholas's place. We had initially planned on going for a movie, but we had instead opted ordering Chinese and staying in. And we had occupied ourselves well while waiting for the food to arrive.

"I feel like the biggest cliché," I laughed as I popped a chicken dumpling into my mouth. Nicholas and I were lying in his bed, my clothes strewn across the place, with me in Nicholas's shirt, him in just sweatpants, eating our dinner directly out of a carton.

"Well, you're a very cute cliché," I said with a teasing smile, then kissed the top of my forehead.

Nicholas and I had reached a new stage. Since everything was out in the open, and we were both starting to move on, it was like we could just fool around. It didn't always have to be drama, and I wasn't constantly afraid of loosing him. It was great.

"I got a job offer today," he told me before filling his mouth with fried rice.

"That's great. You're not even finished school yet though."

"I know. City of Toronto's willing to take me on once I graduate."

"Are you going to take it?"

"I'm thinking about it. I might do my masters and see if maybe I could teach."

"You'd make a great teacher," I told him sincerely.

"I don't know yet. I'm still not sure what I want to do."

"Then don't rush it. Pass me an egg roll instead."

"That was subtle," he laughed.

I grinned. "I try."

"Bad news. This is the last one," he told me, holding up half of what had been an egg roll. "You'll have to wrestle me for it."

I rolled over and pounced on him. "Beg for mercy," I told him.

He grinned. "Never."

I shrugged. "Fine." I reached for the egg roll and released it from his grip. I was about to take a bite when he rolled over, and I found him on top of me.

"Beg for mercy," he laughed.

"Never."

"Then loose the egg roll." He bit it right out of my hand. Once he finished, I managed to get my hands out of his grip and reach around his waist to tickle him. He jumped up and ran to the other side of the bed. I followed him over, very slowly, and brought my body to just touching his. I tickled him again, and he squirmed. Even though I was shorter than him, he allowed me to pin his arms against the wall.

"Beg for mercy," I told him again.

"I've got a better idea," he grinned.

"What?"

He quickly swept me off my feet, and he put me down on the bed. "Your turn to beg."

But I had forgotten all about the game or any begging. All I could see was Nicholas. I opened my mouth to say something, but was stopped by Nicholas's lips on mine.

* * *

Later on, I found myself lying in Nicholas's arms again.

"I should get going," I said softly, not wanting to break the mood.

Nicholas's lips gently touched my forehead when he spoke. "Why don't you stay here?"

"I didn't bring any stuff."

"Why don't you? I don't have much room, but you could still leave some of your stuff.

I grinned. I hadn't planned on him saying that. I got out of bed and pulled his comforter around me.

"You know what?"

"What?" I asked.

"This is the first time I've been in love since I moved to Toronto."

I laughed. "In a John Mayer song, that would make me your city love."

He smiled. "I like that. My city love."

* * *

"Okay, I have something to tell you," I told Ashley the following week when we met for our weekly coffee at The Dot.

"Shoot," she told me, stirring her chai.

"I've been accepted to University of BC."

"That's awesome. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," I told her with a smile. "It's pretty exciting."

"What did Nicholas say?"

I stirred my drink. "I haven't told him yet."

"Why not?"

I sighed. I didn't want to admit this to anyone, but I knew that I needed Ashley's help.

"I don't want him to know yet. I just want him for a little while longer. I know this can't last, but I need to hang onto it for awhile."

She nodded and took a sip. "I understand that. But Paige, you're in a relationship with him, I mean, God, you might even sleep with him. You need to be honest with him."

"I already have."

"I thought you had said you hadn't told him."

"I haven't. I've already slept with him."

Ashley dropped her drink. "Shit!" I quickly got the napkins from the table beside us and mopped up the mess.

"When did you?"

"Two weekends ago."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

I shrugged. "I didn't tell anyone. I like. . . I like having him, and us, to myself. I know it sounds weird, but that's what I need."

She nodded. "Are you thinking of staying here?"

"I love him Ash, I really do. But I need out of here. And he's got a job here once he finishes school. I need my escape. After everything that's happened here, I want out of Toronto once and for all."

* * *

Friday night, Nicholas and I hibernated in his apartment again. Instead of going for the wine, we got straight into rum.

"I've got a city love," Nicholas belted out with my John Mayer CD. "I found it in. . . Paigeia."

I giggled. We had both had way too much to drink, but we were enjoying ourselves.

"Two AM, I swear I might propose." He stopped his rendition and turned to me. "Do you keep your toothbrush at my place?"

I laughed. "I do now."

"That's right, you brought some stuff over."

I laughed again. "Okay, I'm going to bed."

"Wait, wait, I'll go with you."

He did, and as he settled into bed, he started rubbing my back. And as he did that, I made a shocking realization.

I was actually happy.


End file.
